


Harrison Alistair and the Order

by MysticWolfShadows



Series: Harrison Alistair [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticWolfShadows/pseuds/MysticWolfShadows
Summary: After the end of Harry's fourth year, he returns home to find that nothing seems to quiet be the same. His family is preparing for War, but the rest of the world... The rest of the world doesn't even want to listen.
Series: Harrison Alistair [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1241783
Comments: 44
Kudos: 88





	1. Demented

When they reached Hogsmeade, Quinn was there, waiting to greet them. He kept a smile on, though as they grew closer, Harry noticed how strained it looked, his brothers eyes darting back and forth. When they reached him, Quinn gave his two children a tight hug. 

“Welcome home,” he said, pulling both of them in tight, squeezing. When he let go of his children, he turned and gave Marrissa, and then Harry a hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright, Harry. When I heard about what happened from Mother, and then that paper…” 

“We can talk about it later,” Harry said, smiling just a little. “When we get back to the house.” 

Quinn nodded, using his wand to levitate their trunks for them as they continued on their way. “Yes. Mother has everyone coming to the house. This is a big deal, after all. Everyone’s having to take time off from work. I’ve even closed up shop for the day.” 

Harry knew, from a letter from his father, that the family would be getting together to discuss the best course of action, but Quinn surely couldn’t mean _everyone_ would be there. Jonathan was still doing muggle police work in Little Winning last he heard, and Freya’s husband was supposed to be in Romania with Ron’s brother Charlie. Not to mention that Russell was on tour with his band, and his wife Maria was still supposed to be at Beauxbatons in France. 

When they got to Quinn’s, they dropped off Milla and Hester’s trunks, before going to the fireplace. Quinn pulled out the small box of Floo powder, letting Harry go first. 

Once Harry was through the Floo, he was greeted by his mother. She smiled at him, pulling him out, and dusting him off. Dizzy was quick to come and take his trunk from him, welcoming him home, though she didn’t look at all pleased. He hoped it was because of the soot from the Floo, and not because she’d heard about Hermione’s SPEW effort. 

The others were quick to follow Harry through. First Sirius, then Marrissa, Milla, Hester, and Quinn. Together, they made their way into the dining room. Much to Harry’s surprise, Quinn had been right. Everyone had come. His siblings, their children and spouses. Everyone sat at the enlarged table, having tea and cookies like nothing was out of place. 

When Harry entered, everyone looked up. Calmly, Arianna sent Joseph and Jameson away with Tikki to go play out in the garden as everyone took their seats. His mother carefully to her seat to his father’s right, leaving Harry to take the seat across from her, at his father’s left. Sirius took the empty seat next to him, with Marrissa a bit down the table next to her father, and Quinn sitting at the far end with Milla and Hester on either side. Only one seat remained open, now, a single chair across from Sirius, between Harry’s mother and his brother Derrick. 

“Is Professor Snape not joining us?” his father said, voice calm and soft, but clearly carrying down the table. 

“He was called into a meeting with the headmaster last minute,” Marrissa supplied for Harry. “We didn’t really get a chance to hear what it was about.” 

With a nod, his father hummed. “Very well. He will have to join us later.” 

“As you all know,” Harry’s mother said as she folded her hands together on the table, “You Know Who has returned. He used the Triwizard Tournament to get Harrison away from the school, with the help of an escaped and disguised Death Eater. While the Death Eater had been caught, a mistake on Minister Fudge’s part has ended with the death of said Death Eater. Not only that, but the Ministry has outright refused to acknowledge the new and rising danger.” 

“The Wizengamot has also voted against investigating the Death Eaters that Harrison has named,” his father added. “For the last month, it has been debated. And, even with the fact that he couldn’t possibly have known about some of them, they believe that the endeavor would be a waste of time and resources. In act, it seems that they would rather put said resources into reassuring the public that He Who Must Not Be Named hasn’t returned.” Carefully, his eyes roamed the table, before landing on Harry. “How have the students reacted since the original article?” 

Frowning, Harry pursed his lips. “Well, the majority seem to believe the paper. They don’t want to believe that he’s back, so they don’t. Hermione and Ron believe me, of course. So do Ron’s brothers, Fred and George, as well as his sister Ginny. I managed to talk to Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang before hand. While Cho didn’t seem to want to listen, or even understand at first, Cedric did, and was able to convince her I was telling the truth. They said that they would eventually try talking with the other Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, but after the article, no one would really listen. Hermione and Ron’s siblings have been having just about as little luck with the Gyfindors, though Neville Longbottom seemed understand.” 

“And the Slytherins?” 

Harry cringed. The Slytherins, while not outright saying they didn’t believe him, also weren’t speaking to him unless they had to. He understood that they were all in dangerous positions, but he missed his friends. And he needed the allies. As many as he could get. There was a war coming, after all. 

“They’ve distanced themselves from me,” Harry eventually said. “Aside from Blaise Zabini and a handful of first and second years, none of them will talk to me outside of class. They’re all in dangerous places right now, with the exception of Blaise. He’s the only one in my year that doesn’t have a relative that is a convicted or ‘accused’ Death Eater.” 

His father nodded slowly. “Yes… It’s understandable. You’ll have to be careful with them, Harrison. I think you can trust Zabini, at least for now, but we can’t know for certain what side the others will be on.” Turning to the rest of the table, his father looked at the others. “Is there any other news that needs to be shared?” 

There was a soft murmur as, one by one, the others began to stand. They were going clockwise around the table, with Moria standing to speak about the centaurs first. Apparently, they had seen the signs of a coming war, and had started asking Moria about it. She’d explained how Voldemort had returned, but that the Ministry of Magic were refusing to at the very least investigate. The centaurs agreed with Moria, though, and promised that when the time came, they would lend their aid. 

Next was Dorian. He explained that, after Karkaroff’s abandonment of his students, many of the young witches and wizards returned to Durmstrang with confirmation that what Harry had said was true. It also helped that Viktor was the one leading the charge in distributing that information. However, the Ministries of Magic in that area didn’t seem to agree. They were investigating more then the British Ministry was, but they were more inclined to believe Fudge then they were to believe Harry. 

Skyla and Mason had both noticed an unnatural rise of injured muggle borns in the last week alone, though for different reasons. Skyla, as a Mediwitch in training, was treating an odd amount of confused muggleborns who didn’t remember how or when they had gotten hurt. Mason, on the other hand, was finding Auror’s bringing children of suddenly deceased muggleborns to the orphanage. With no muggle relatives that knew of magic, or magical relatives to speak of, they were being sent to Pixie Orphanage. With so many confirmed muggle borns present there, Harry’s father promised to arrange for Mason to have more help, in case Voldemort decided to strike there. 

Maria spoke up next. Much like Dorian, she reported that those at Beauxbatons were in agreement. Madam Maxine seemed to have allied herself with Dumbledore. The french school would be preparing the best way it could for the inevitable dangers of the coming war. French Ministry officials were all investigating Harry’s claim, and they seemed to trust Madam Maxine more then they did Fudge. 

“There’s some more good news on our end,” Russell said when Maria had sat down. He took her hand, trying to smile, but he only seemed to look tired. “We wanted to be sure, before we told anyone, but… Maria and I are expecting.” 

“Expecting?” his mother said. Her eyes widened, and the air grew heavy at the normally wonderful knews. “Russell… Surely you don’t mean…” 

“It’s true,” Maria said. “I’m pregnant. Ten weeks, the mediwizard said… It’s why I’m not at Beauxbatons. As much as Madam Maxine wanted to keep me on as the Defense instructor, she thinks it wouldn’t be good for me to stay and have to leave in the middle of the school year. Not… Not when a war is coming.” 

Slowly, Harry’s mother nodded. “We’ll be here for you as much as we can, dear. You’re family, after all.” 

With that somber note, they did their best to move on. Freya’s husband Kale spoke up, mentioning how there had been a few strange people around the dragon grounds in Romania. Neva and Emit confess that the near slander to Harry’s name that the Prophet kept putting out was actually the cut down versions. There were hundreds of articles that had been cut for one reason or another. 

With everyone who had something to say done, Harry looked at the table, losing himself in thought. He thought about what everyone had said, and tried to think of what the next step was. He supposed the only thing he could do was keep training and make sure that everyone who needed to be informed knew what was coming. As Harry thought about who wouldn’t have heard about Voldemort’s return, a few very specific people jumped to mind, who might not even know about magic. And he couldn’t help but wince at the very thought of explaining to them. 

“Harrison?” his mother said, catching his attention. 

Looking up, Harry blinked. “What?” 

“For the summer,” his father said. “We think it would be best if you were to stay out of the public eye for a while, and if you go out, you’ll need to stay with a chaperone. In the meantime, you will continue your training. In everything.” 

“Everything?” 

Next to him, Sirius grinned. “ _Everything_ ,” he said. 

Harry blinked, but nodded. And with that, the first ‘Alistair War Meeting’ was concluded. Everyone stood, said their goodbyes and gave gentle congratulations to Russell and Maria, and were on their separate ways. They’d be back in a month for updates. Sooner, if something big happened. 

Before Sirius could drag him off for whatever his first lesson of the summer was to be, Harry went to his mother. She looked just as tired as she had when Harry had left at the beginning of the school year. When she saw him approach her, she forced a bit of a smile. Harry tried to return it. 

“Yes, dear?” she said, voice gentle. 

“I was thinking,” he started, going slow. “We need to make sure everyone who could be a target knows what’s going on, right?” 

Frowning, his mother nods. “Of course. Did you think of someone who doesn’t know yet?” 

He gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah… I guess you could say that.” 

XxXXxX

“You really sure about this?” Jonathan asked as they walked up the walkway to the address he had found. “I mean, this is a big deal.” 

“I’m sure,” Harry said, trying to keep his voice steady. 

After his talk with his mother, almost a week ago, he had started again on his training with Sirius. They were working on spells that his godfather had thought of as particularly helpful in a duel, though once Harry got back they would move on to the Animagius ritual. They had decided that being an unregistered Animagius had more pros than cons, now that Voldemort was back for sure. 

But this meeting today was too important to be put off until he had finished with the Mandrake leaf. And Harry would need to be in top form or this. He had Jonathan with him, afterall, and Harry didn’t want to end up wasting his time. 

“Well,” Jonathan said, looking from his little note to the house. “Seems like this is the place.” 

Harry took a moment to look the small building over. Their house itself wasn’t that much different after their move. Two stories, brown brick outer walls, but much slimmer. The garden was less pristine here as well. Perhaps from the owner not having enough time to care for it. That didn’t surprise Harry, though the choice of Enfield was a bit of a shock. After all, the town was a bit famous for its supposed poltergeist, not even twenty years ago. For a family who hated anything strange or abnormal, they sure chose quite the town to move to. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked up the little path that led to the door. He paused, taking a glance at the curb. There was no car parked there. Would they even be home? 

When Jonathan placed a hand on his shoulder, he jumped. Glancing back at his older nephew, he got a little smile before Jonathan stepped forward to the door in Harry’s place. Rapping his fist on the wood, Jonathan spoke in a crisp and clear voice. 

“This is officer Lawrence,” he said. “If you don’t mind opening up, I’d like to have a word.” 

Almost instantly, Harry could hear the quick _clack clack_ of heels on wood flooring. The door opened, and a woman appeared, staring at Jonathan.

“Is something wrong, Offi-” The woman cut herself off when her eyes landed on Harry. She stared, a storm of emotions flashing in her eyes, to fast for Harry to see. “You…” 

Harry gave a careful, nervous smile. “Hello, Aunt Petunia.” 

Petunia Dursley pressed her lips into a tight line. Looking from Jonathan to Harry, then back again, she huffed. “If you’re here to come begging for a place to stay, you won’t find it here.” 

“No, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said quickly. “We… We just need a moment of your time. To have a quick chat. It’s… It’s kind of about Lily.” 

If Petunia hadn’t been tense before, she was especially ridgid now. “Your mother? What could you possibly have to talk to me about her for? Can’t you be asking your-” 

She cut herself off again, her eyes darted towards Jonathan, then back at Harry. And Harry realized something. Petunia and Vernon had most certainly known about magic. Sure, Harry knew that they knew, if only because Snape had talked about them as if they did, but he had never really acknowledged it. That his entire childhood, they had lied to him about _everything_. 

“Why don’t we take this inside,” Jonathan said quickly, smiling in hope of keeping everything under control. “Maybe we can talk over a cup of tea?” 

Pressing her lips into a tight line once more, Petunia turned back into the house. While she didn’t exactly invite them in, she did leave the door open, so Harry led the way inside. 

As Harry followed Petunia, he glanced around the room. Rather then an entryway, the front door led straight into the living room, which was also connected quite clearly with the dining room. To Harry’s photos of the Dursley’s hung carefully on the walls. They were all from before Vernon had been sent to jail, and Harry wasn’t in a single one. He guessed some things never changed. 

Following Petunia to the small dining table, Harry took a seat across from her. She frowned, clearly confused and trying not to show it, when Jonathan stayed standing, just a bit away from the table. 

“What’s this about?” she said, quick and sharp. “Best hurry. I want you gone before Vernon and Dudley get back.” 

Harry did his best to remain calm. He didn’t snap or roll his eyes. Taking his usually calming breath, he pulled his wand from his pocket, and placed it on the table. Petunia jumped at the sound it made. 

“I know about magic,” Harry said. “And about how Lily and James really died. You do too, right?” 

“Some sort of infighting between your kind,” she said, almost off handedly, like she didn’t care. “It wasn’t my problem then, and it isn’t my problem now.” 

He scowled at her. “Aunt Petunia.” He paused, then decided that this polite ‘let’s pretend we’re still family’ thing wasn’t working. Harry stood, placing his hands on the table, face set and serious. “Mrs. Dursley, your sister didn’t die in a random scuffle. She was murdered, in cold blood, while trying to protect Muggles like yourself in a war meant to eradicate you. Now, the man that was leading the opposition has been dead for the last thirteen years, but due to certain circumstances, he has _returned_. And while we may have cut ties, he may still send people after you if he thinks that it would draw me out. So, really, Mrs. Dursley. I’ve only come to issue a warning. Nothing else.” 

With each word, Petunia seemed to grow more and more frightened. A hand came up to cover her mouth, shaking in shock. She stared, horrified, as Harry finished. 

“Lily… Lily was fighting in a _war_ when she died?” 

It was then that Harry realized something else. Something that he and Petunia had in common. They had both been lied to about Lily Potter’s death. Him by Petunia, and Petunia by Dumbledore. 

“Yes,” Harry said, doing his best to sound gentle. “And a second war is coming, and I-” 

"Petunia," a voice grunted as the front door banged open. "We’re back." 

Instantly, Harry froze. He turned, watching Vernon and Dudley Dursley walk in. His aunt stood quickly, eyes darting back and forth between Harry and her husband, clearly worried. She wasn't the only one though. 

Harry himself could feel his stomach churn and tighten at the sight of the man who beat him and mistreated him throughout most of his child. He had known that Vernon had gotten out of prison, but he had been hoping not to see him. Sure, it had been inevitable. But he rather not have to deal with his uncle. Or his cousin. 

When Vernon’s eyes landed on him, it was clear that, much like Petunia, he didn’t like the sight of Harry. 

“ _You_ ,” Vernon hissed, his thick fingers balling into fists as his fat face was already turning purple. “What are _you_ doing here, boy?” 

“Vernon,” Petunia said quickly. She stood, reached out in an attempt at a calming gesture. “Vernon, please. He just came to talk.” 

Her words only seemed to anger him more. “Talk? _Talk_ ?! With one of _them_ ?! With that _freak boy_ ?!” When Vernon’s eyes jumped from Harry to Jonathan, his anger only grew, face turning a dark purple. “And _you_! I knew you were one of them! One of those freaks, just like the boy!” 

Harry narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like hearing anyone talk to his family that way, much less a pig of a man like Vernon Dursley. He wanted to snap at the man, to finally be rid of him, but he knew that he couldn’t just sit back and let them get hurt or even die because of him. He didn’t want to have anything else to do with them, and they certainly weren’t going to write. 

Before he could do anything rash, Jonathan finally took a step forward. Placing a reassuring hand of Harry’s shoulder, he gave a bit of a smile, before giving a bit of a nod off to the side. Frowning, Harry turned to follow the look, and his eyes met with Dudley’s. His cousin was staring at him, wide eyed, as if he had seen a ghost. 

“Mrs. Dursley,” Jonathan said, putting on his best officer smile. “Maybe it would be a good idea for us to discuss this in private? Maybe Harrison and your son can go out, take a walk, so everyone can be filled in?” 

“My son is going nowhere with one of your kind!” Vernon snarled. He was shaking now, and slapped a hand on the table. “I want you both out of my house, right this instant, or I swear, I’ll-!” 

“ _Vernon_!” 

Everyone froze. Slowly, four sets of eyes slid to Petunia. She was scowling, practically glaring, at her husband. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, brow pulled tight together. She looked so stern, and Harry almost worried she’d pop a blood vessel. He’d never heard her shout at anyone like that, other than, well, _him_. 

“Vernon, sit down. This is more important.” She shot Harry a look, before turning to her son. “Dudder’s… I want you to go for a walk with… with Harrison. He’s… going to tell you something that you might not believe, but it’s true. It’s all true. Alright, Popkin?” 

Slowly, Dudley gave a bit of a nod. He shot Harry a look before heading towards the door. Harry, not wanting to run to catch up with him, gave the adults a quick nod before following after him. 

Once they were outside, Harry just walked next to Dudley for a bit, unsure of where to start. Dudley didn’t know anything about magic, that much was sure. And Harry wasn’t even sure where to start. With his parents death? With how he learned about magic? Or should he just out right tell him ‘Hey, I know this is crazy, but magic is real, and look, this is my wand’? 

“You go by Harrison now,” Dudley said instead, almost making Harry jump. 

“What?” Harry asked, blinking for a second. “Oh, right… Well, sort of. My family calls me that, but most of friends still call me Harry.” 

“Oh,” Dudley said, almost soft. “That cop… He a relative then?” 

“Yeah. Nephew, actually. Oldest sisters son.” Harry shook his head. “We didn’t come out here to talk about my family, though. Well, not really.” 

“Is this about why you left?” 

Harry blinked. “Dudley, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.” 

He meant it as a joke. Really, he had. But Dudley stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking down at the ground as he kicked a rock. He looked unbelievably sad, and so very lonely. And that’s when Harry began to wonder if, after he had left, if Dudley had had anyone his own age around. How long after losing their ‘wealthy’ status had the Dursley’s moved? And would Dudley been able to handle public school alone? Where he couldn’t use wealth to make friends anymore? 

“Listen,” Harry said, keeping his voice calm. “If you wanna hang out sometime, I’m sure we can. But first, there’s something you need to know. About me, and my family.” He paused. “About your aunt, my mother.” 

Dudley looked up, confused. “You mean whatever Mum wanted you to tell me?” 

Harry nodded. “This is gonna sound crazy, D, but… Magic is real. I’m a wizard. So were my parents, and so is my family.” 

For a moment, Dudley stared. Harry almost thought he was going to laugh in his face. But his cousin just nodded. He didn’t laugh, or call Harry a liar. He just nodded. 

“Alright,” Dudley said. “You’re… a wizard.” 

“That’s it?” Harry asked. “That’s all you have to say? You just… believe me?” 

“Mum said you were gonna tell me the truth. So, like, you can use magic, and make stuff happen? You got a magic wand?” 

Harry couldn’t help it. He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I got a wand. How’d you even know wizards use wands? Your dad hates it so much, I thought you wouldn’t know a thing.” 

Dudley’s face falls again. “Got detention a lot last year… The counselor said that I should try something new, so he made me go to the… dragons and whatever club. To try and put my, uh… anger into something creative.” He looked down again, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. “Left after two sessions, cuz none of ‘em wanted me around.” 

It was hard for Harry to not feel bad for Dudley, looking at him now. Sure, he had been a bully, but that was years ago. They had been children, not even ten. And now, Dudley was just a frustrated boy who didn’t know what to do with his anger. Really, Harry felt bad. 

“Well, maybe you can meet some of my friends next time.” Pausing, Harry grinned. “Actually… I know a girl who lives not even a half hour drive from here. She’s the brightest witch of the age, and she could probably tell you a lot more about our history then I could. Then again, you’d probably be a lot more interested in meeting the Weasley’s…” 

Shaking his head, Harry did his best to focus. “Anyway, the reason I came back to talk to Aunt Petunia. See, there’s this… Well, there might be a war coming. And you and your parents could get caught up in it.” 

Dudley frown, but nodded. As he did, something drew Harry’s eyes to the sky. It was only maybe an hour past noon, yet… the sky was unusually dark. It was like someone was slowly blocking out the sun. The warm summer breeze was suddenly gone, leaving only a cold stillness to the air. It was as if something had sucked the very life out of the air. 

Goosebumps ran up Harry’s flesh as the air grew colder, his eyes widening. He knew this feeling… This feeling of dread, of cold unfeeling helplessness, as if all the joy of life had been drained away. But it couldn’t be right… He _had_ to be wrong. Because, surely, they couldn’t be _here_. 

“Dudley,” Harry said, his eyes locked on a figure in the distance. “Run.” 

“What?” his cousin asked, breath coming out in a misty cloud. 

“Run!” 

Shoving him, Harry turned and started to run. He wasn’t sure where they were, had lost track of the house in their walk, but up ahead, he could see a small alley. If he could get to it, maybe he could hunker down, defend Dudley until Jonathan could come find them. He’d have to try using his patronus, even if he would likely get a strike for it, since his parents weren’t around to dampen the trace. But there wasn’t anything else Harry could do. 

Grabbing hold of Dudley’s sleeve, Harry yanked him towards the alley. They dashed inside, and Harry was ecstatic to find that it had an overhang as a makeshift roof. They wouldn’t be dive bombed and ambushed then. 

Pulling out his wand, Harry looked from one end of the alley to the other, wondering where the Dementor would come from. He listened, hoping to hear the rasping breathing before they could enter the alley. If he listened hard enough, focused, he could just barely hear… 

“ _Expecto Patronum_!” 

The silvery wisps of vapor shot out from the tip of his wand. The Dementor paused, but only for a second. It continued forward, and Harry saw Dudley give a heavy shudder, wrapping his arms around himself. Harry swallowed, feeling helpless as he used one arm to carefully push Dudley back, the other keeping his wand up. 

He tried to focus, concentrate, as the Dementor came closer and closer. It’s gray and scabbed hands came up, reaching out towards them. The panic rose in his chest as a rushing noise slowly filled his ears. Harry tried to cast again, hoping his Patronus would work this time, but only another feeble wisp came out of the tip of his wand. 

The sound of Lily Potter’s death slowly filled his ears, growing louder and louder. Voldemort’s laughter soon followed, filling his ears and crushing his soul with darkness. As the stomach churning smell of Dementor’s breath began to fill his lungs, he heard the thump of a body falling to the ground. 

He couldn’t give up here. He had to fight, to save himself, Dudley, and live to fight another day. He tried to think of happy thoughts. Tried to bring them all together. His mother, his father… His sisters and brothers. Sirius and his family. He thought of all the time he had spent with Ron and Hermione, and how close he had grown to Blaise, Theo, and Draco...

With a sharp breath, Harry cast once more. “ _Expecto Patronum_!” 

For the first time since learning the spell, a corporeal patronus sprang forth. The large glowing animal charged forward to defend Harry from the darkness of the Dementor, catching it in the chest with its antlers. It threw the Dementor back, like it was nothing, until the Dementor fled. 

With the danger gone, the brilliant, glowing stag turned to Harry. It bowed its head, the prongs of its antlers just barely reaching the ground before it vanished. For a minute, Harry could only stare at where it had been. He had cast a full patronus. He had _actually_ done it. 

A groan from the ground next to him drew Harry’s attention. He turned, kneeling down next to Dudley. His cousin wasn’t dead, thankfully. Just dazed. The Dementor had been more focused on Harry. 

“Come on, Big D,” Harry said, pulling Dudley to his feet as best he could. “Let’s get you home.”


	2. Hearing

Harry did his best to drag Dudley back to the house. It was a fair distance away, and carrying Dudley all that way was killer on Harry’s shoulder. Eventually, he reached the dusty little path leading to the front door of the Dursley’s home. With a huff, Harry heaved Dudley up, and fumbled with the knob until it opened. 

“Diddy?” Petunia’s voice called from inside. “Is that you? Back already?” 

As his aunt came out into the hallway, Harry spared a glance at his cousin. It was good that he had, since Dudley’s face had turned a pale and sickly green. Harry managed to turn the larger boy around, aiming him towards the weedy floor bed by the door just in time for Dudlley to throw up. 

“Diddy!” Petunia shrieked, rushing forward. “Diddy, what happened?! Vernon? Vernon!” 

Vernon and Jonathan came quickly at the sound of Petunia’s cries, though Harry couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Dursley’s neighbors came running. Still, Harry let Dudley go, Vernon and Jonathan carefully taking each side as they pulled him toward the couch. Petunia quickly grabbed a waste bin and shoved it under Dudley’s face just in time for the boy to throw up again. 

Moving into the kitchen, Harry began a search of the cupboards. He could hear his aunt and Vernon trying to pull information out of his woozy son. With a roll of his eyes, Harry grabbed the back of chocolate chips he found in the back of a cupboard, and returned to Dudley. He ripped open the bag, reaching in to grab a handful to hold it out to Dudley. 

“Eat,” he said, ignoring the look Vernon was giving him. 

“Chocolate?” Jonathan asked, as Dudley groaned and carefully ate one. “But that… That would mean…” 

“That we were attacked by Dementors?” Harry sighed. “We were. I managed to use the Patronus Charm to scare them off, but not before one of them had nearly got Dudley.” 

“The bloody hell are you on about?!” Vernon hissed in a dark growl. His face was stern, as hard as his fat face could be. “What have you done to my son?” 

“Nothing,” Harry said, determined to not be cowed. He wasn’t a child that would take Vernon’s beatings anymore. 

“Vernon,” Petunia said quickly, still kneeling next to her son, trying to smooth his hair back as he threw up again. “Please. We were just talking about-” 

“It’s all complete nonsense!” Vernon bellowed. “Nonsense, that I will not stand for! Not in this house! Not by these freaks! A bloody  _ war _ ?! It’s rubbish!” 

“I don’t care whether you believe us or not.” Harry’s voice was deadly calm, something he supposed he had picked up from his father. It was the calm and smooth voice of a commander in charge. “We came here to warn you about what could happen. And we’ve done that. We won’t stay any longer, but Jonathan will leave the number to call to reach his desk. If you change your mind, or need help, just call.” 

With a nod to his aunt, Harry turned towards the door once more. He didn’t wait, walking quickly, knowing that Jonathan would follow. If Petunia was smart, she’d call if she thought something was wrong. If not, then Dudley would, at the very least, try to give him a call. Either way, Harry knew that he would know when they needed help. 

XxXXxX

The first thing to happen when Harry entered the house wasn’t what he had expected. 

He had expected his mother, or one of his sisters, or Marrissa, coming to check on him. Or his father waiting to hear how it went. Surely, Sirius would have been the first to the door, on edge after being refused the chance to come with Harry, even as Padfoot. Harry was greeted with none of that. 

Instead, one of the elves appeared, face looking rather grim. 

“Mistress Zinnia and Master Gerald are waiting in the study for yous.” She rang her little hand, looking rather nervous. 

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked. “Did something happen?” 

She looked away from him, shaking a bit. “Letter from the Ministry. Please, Master and Misses are waiting for yous.” 

And, with that, the elf was gone. Harry quickly made his way up the stairs to his father’s study, worry rolling in his gut as he thought of what it could be. Had his mother already heard about the Dementor’s? But if she had, surely she would have been waiting for him in the entrance way. And that letter… He supposed that the trace was still on him, and that by being out in a muggle area would make it so the Ministry would be notified… 

When he reached his father’s study, he found his mother, father, and Sirius waiting inside. They all had serious looks on their faces, which was usually a problem for, well, Sirius. The dark haired man was sitting cross armed, scowling down at the table. Or, rather, the single folded letter on top of the table. 

“You’ve been accused of breaking the statute of secrecy,” his father said, hands folded together in front of him. His voice was low, tense. 

“I didn’t,” Harry said, quickly and a bit defensive. He hated disappointing his parents, and the calm he had felt earlier was now gone. 

“Harrison,” his mother said, voice soft. “They know that you used a charm in front of a muggle. They’ve arranged a hearing date, and you’ll be required to go. Otherwise they’ll break your wand.” 

“There was a Dementor!” His voice came out almost shrill. “It attacked me when I was alone outside with my cousin. I used the Patronus Charm to  _ defend _ us.” 

Instantly, Sirius was on his feet, eyes wide. He slapped his hands on the table, eyes locked on Harry. “Dementor?!” 

The atmosphere in the room instantly changed. Sirius was in a fit of cursing, looking like he needed to destroy something. His mother was worried, biting her lip as his father stood. No one looked at all pleased, and Harry could understand why. 

“The Ministry will not be pleased to hear this,” his father said, voice low in thought. “They likely won’t listen to reason either. After all, even when the idea of even looking into the escapades of Barty Crouch Junior this last year, the Minister soundly refuses. Says it’s all poppycock.” 

For a second, Harry blinked. “So... What do we do?” 

“We’ll have to go to the hearing. Somehow convince them you did nothing wrong.” 

“And he technically didn’t,” his mother mused. Everyone turned to look at her, as she carefully placed a hand on her cheek in thought. “While it does go against the statute of secrecy to use magic in front of a muggle, there is an exception for family members. Such as aunts and uncles. Cousins. In fact, if it wasn’t for underage sorcery, Harry would have been allowed to use magic to prove to his cousin of its existence.” 

“Do you have an idea then?” 

His mother hummed. “I suppose you could say that.” 

XxXXxX

That following Monday, Harry went with his father to the Ministry. His mother came with them, though she would be sitting in the back, just there as Harry’s moral support. He didn’t think it was really necessary, but she had insisted. Everything was so dangerous right now and unnecessary risks shouldn’t be taken. 

They entered via floo, dressed in somewhat formal robes, and his father led the way down the entrance hall. It wasn’t the first time Harry had been to the Ministry of Magic, but it had been several years. Not since he had started at Hogwarts, that was for sure. The first time he had come here, he had been amazed by the stunning polished wood floors, the dynamic blue ceiling high above, and the fountain decorated with golden statues. It still amazed him today, but he didn’t find it quite as shocking now. After all, he went to Hogwarts, where the staircases moved and ghosts wondered without a care. 

They made their way through security and guest check in, with the young wizard at the counter doing a double take on Harry. His parents ushered him away before the man could ask any questions. 

“You probably should have put on concealer,” his mother mused, sighing slightly. “That scar of yours draws too much attention…” 

“It doesn’t work,” Harry told her. “People already know, and covering it up will just make them stare more.” 

It was true. After his scar has been revealed and his history uncovered, all of his peers had done nothing but stared. Conversation had become rather uncomfortable, and recovering his scar had only made it worse. The whispered questions had been unbearable. 

With a sigh, his mother led him into the elevator. It was crowded, with witches and wizards who looked to be in a hurry, and little paper airplane memo’s swirling around the overhead lamp. As they stepped in, Harry noticed Mr. Weasley standing in the back, looking at something in his hands. His friend's father looked up, sporting a wide grin as he spotted Harry. 

“Ah, Harry!” he said, carefully worming his way through the cramped space to them as the doors closed. “And Zinnia and Gerald! Good morning, both of you.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” his mother said. “A pleasure.” 

“How are you, Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked, hoping for a bit of conversation. He was starting to feel a little nervous about the coming hearing, and he hoped this would help calm him. 

“Oh, I’m great. Just heading down to see Shacklebolt. Man has a question about a piece of muggle technology for the case he’s working.” A strange look passed over Arthur Weasley’s face in that moment. A… hint? Was the red headed man hinting at something? 

“Kingsley Shacklebolt,” his father cut in before Harry could speak. “He’s the Auror in charge of the Sirius Black case, isn’t he?” 

Harry jumped, eyes growing wide before he could stop himself. He looked to his father, then back to Arthur. Was the redhead aware of where Sirius really was? As far as he knew, Ron hadn’t said anything to his family about Sirius since everything that happened in third year. But if Arthur was helping look for Sirius… 

“It’s alright, Harry,” his mother said, a hand coming up to smooth out his hair. He glanced up at her, but she was looking at Arthur. “It’s so troubling that he hasn’t been found, even after two years. He came after our family once, and Harrison at least twice. He could come after us at any time and it’s been so stressful for all of us at home.” 

Harry blinked, catching on quickly, and did his best to look like he was trying to look not scared. “Shacklebolt will find him, won’t he?” 

Everyone in the elevator seemed to be watching them, and Arthur looked a bit surprised. 

“Of course,” he said quickly. “I’m sure… I’m sure Shacklebolt is doing everything he can to find him.” 

The rest of the ride was silent, and Harry was starting to get an idea of how this was going to go. His parents hadn’t exactly told him the plan, but he supposed it would be best to play up the ‘I’m just a boy, and I’m so scared’ bit. Sirius was still assumed to be after them, and Harry had just come out of a dangerous tournament where he almost or could have died on several occasions. Perhaps he could use the fact he was attacked by Dementors to his advantage… After all, everyone knew they were his boggart. He could lean on that fact, push that  _ maybe _ he was just seeing things, and over reacted. 

When they reached level two, His mother led him through the hallways of the Magical Law Enforcement department, heading for the hearing rooms in the back, by the Improper Use of Magic office. Jonathan was waiting for them, and they were all let into a large room. Harry was surprised to find it was much larger then he had thought it would be, with a few benches in the back, followed by a single chair that sat before a massive amphitheater sized row of seats that reminded Harry of an oversized jury booth. 

Already, the seats in the booth were filled, save for one, and his father was quickly moving to fill it. His mother let out a careful breath, before pressing a kiss to his temple and moving to take a seat in the back with Johnathan. Harry glanced at the single chair, feeling his nerves grow again. 

“Please,” someone said, voice ringing out across the room. “Have a seat.” 

Harry glanced at where the voice had come from, and found the Minister, Fudge, seated towards the center of the large booth. Clearly, if they had gathered the entire Wizengamot then this wasn’t some simple hearing. Still, he sat in the single chair, looking around to see if he recognized anyone else in the room. 

He could not. 

“Now,” Fudge said, eying Harry. “With the accused present, we’ll begin. Are you ready?” 

Harry thought, for a moment, that Fudge had been speaking to him. But a voice called an affirmative from the corner of the room, and Harry turned to look. There, tucked away and almost hidden in the shadows, was Percy Weasley with a roll of parchment and a quill. 

“Disciplinary hearing of the third of July,” Fudge called out, Percy beginning to write quickly. “Offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and the International Statute of Secrecy, by one Harry James Potter-” 

“Harrison James Alistair,” Harry corrected. 

Fudge stopped, turning a sharp eye on Harry. “Excuse me?” 

Harry, remembering his roll, shrank back in his seat. “It’s… It’s not Harry Potter, sir. It’s Harrison Alistair… It was changed… five and a half years ago, I think?” 

For a moment, Fudge didn’t speak, but he nodded. “By one Harrison James Alistair, of the Alistair Family.

“Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley. 

“The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on June the thirtieth, at twenty three minutes past noon, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy. 

“You are Harrison James Alistair, of the Alistair Family?” Fudge asked suddenly, glaring at Harry from over the parchment he had been reading from. 

Harry nodded. “Yes.” 

“And you were fully aware of the consequences of using illegal magic, were you not?” 

“Yes…” 

“And yet you used the Patronus Charm on the night of July the thirtieth?” 

“Yes, but-” 

Fudge cut him off. “Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside of school while under the age of seventeen? 

“Yes, but I-” 

“Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?” 

Feeling rage boil inside of him, Harry couldn’t help it. “No.” 

“And fully aware that-” Fudge stopped, seeming to realize what Harry had said. “No?” 

“The area was not ‘full of Muggles’,” Harry said, clutching his fists in his lap. “It was noon, most were likely at work, or in their homes, as I didn’t see any out on the streets, and I was in an enclosed alleyway.” 

Fudge lowered his parchment, scowling down him. “Do you mean to say that you were unaware of the Muggle that was in close proximity to you at the time?” 

“No, I was aware, but-” 

“So you admit that you were aware you were in view of a Muggle when you cast the Patronus Charm?” 

“Yes, but he-” 

“You can produce a Patronus?” a witch next to Fudge cun in, her voice just as loud as Fudge. 

Harry blinked. “Yes…” 

“A corporeal Patronu?” 

“That was my first time, but yes. It’s a Stag.” 

“But you’re only fifteen years old. And you learned this at school?” 

Harry’s eyes snapped to his father, unsure of what to say. But his father gave a simple nod, urging Harry to tell the truth. 

“No,” he said, sending a ripple of murmurs through the stands. “Professor Lupin suggested I learn it due to my reaction to Dementors in third year, so my father taught me.” 

“Impressive,” another witch said, staring down at him with wide eyes as everyone was muttering to each other. “A true patronus, even at age fifteen… Very impressive.” 

“It is not a matter of how impressive the magic was,” Fudge cut in, voice stern. “In fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the boy did it in plain view of a Muggle!”

The murmurs started again, most seeming to agree. Still, a few didn’t look too sure, and turned to look at Harry’s father. He simply turned to look past Harry, giving a nod. 

“Perhaps one of us may have a chance to speak?” his mother said. 

Fudge’s scowl deepened. “Mrs. Alistair, this is a hearing for-” 

“Yes, but I was there,” Jonathan added. “In Enfield. I’m the one that took Harry. And… He’s allowed witnesses, right?” 

There were more murmurs, but there was no denying it. Harry was allowed witnesses, and if Jonathan was there, he had the right to step up to speak. Finally, Fudge gestured him forward. 

Quickly, Jonathan was stepping forward, straight backed and ready, as he stood before the Wizengamot. 

“Full name?” Fudge asked, perhaps a little louder then necessary. 

“Jonathan Talon Lawerence, undercover Auror of the British Ministry of Magic, stationed in muggle Little Whinging.” 

While Fudge looked skeptical, he didn’t say anything against Jonathan. “Very well… What is your story?” 

“I took Harry to see his muggle relatives in Enfield,” he said rather simply. “It was my idea to tell them about Magic. So while I spoke with his aunt and uncle, he went out to speak with his cousin to explain everything he’s been through since they last saw each other. It was while they were out that Harry cast his patronus.” 

“Very well… The count against the statute of secrecy is dropped. However, that does not excuse the use of underage sorcery! Why did the boy not wait to return to the house to have you show these muggles proof of magic?” 

Harry couldn’t hold it in anymore. His voice came out against his will, almost expecting to be interrupted again, and the words echoing off the walls. 

“I did it because of the Dementor!” 

Silence filled the room. 

“Dementor?” one witch asked after a moment. “What do you mean?” 

“There was a dementor that chased me and my cousin down that alleyway. I came at us. It could have killed Dudley, killed me, but I managed to conjure a full Patronus to fight it back.” 

It looked like the room would fall silent once again, but Fudge spoke quickly. “Ah, yes. I thought we’d be hearing something like this.” 

“A Dementor in Enfield?” the witch next to the Minister asked. “I don’t understand.” 

“Don’t you, Amelia?” Fudge asked, smirking down at Harry, who could only stare opened mouthed at him. “Let me explain. He thinks that dementors would make a very nice cover story for him. Muggles can’t see dementors, can they? So no witnesses to back his absurd claim.” 

“But I was in Enfield,” Jonathan quickly added. “I noticed the strange weather. A cloudless summer sky suddenly going pitch black? I thought it was a sudden storm, but there was no rain. You can’t possibly-” 

“Enough!” Fudge cried. He looked rather red, and Harry was seeing red. “Enough. I’m sorry to interrupt, but a bit of odd weather does not mean that this tale is true. The boy is-” 

“I’m not lying!” Harry called, voice sounding a little shrill, even to his own ears. Still, he couldn’t stop himself, his face burning and his throat tight as he spoke. “I felt the cold, the drain of all the warmth and happiness from the world. I saw the cloak, that boney decaying hand. I could hear-” His breath caught, and a chill ran over him. “I could hear it… Her  _ screams _ .” 

“Screams?” Fudge sounded almost bored, clearly skeptical of everything Harry was saying. 

“Lily Potters!” His hands came up and he pressed the heel of his palms to his temples. He could hear it now… A distant echo as green flashed behind his eyes. “She’s screaming, begging him to leave me, but he won’t listen! She screams, and screams, and then there's the flash of that green! But it just starts over and over!” 

Harry was left shaking from his outburst, chest heaving as he stared down at the floor. The plan had been to play up his fear, put on a show to make them sympathize, but… That hadn’t all been an act. He really was terrified of the Dementors. Of what they made him hear, see, when they were around. It was too much, even to think about… 

But it seemed that, either way, it had worked. The Wizengamot were murmuring and whispering, staring down at him. When he glanced up, he saw most looking at him in shock or sympathy. The only one seeming to be wholly unswayed was Fudge, he continued to scowl at him. 

“I would like to remind everyone that this boy's reaction to Dementors, if they were not figments of this boy's imagination, is not the subject of this hearing!” With a bang of his gavel, Fudge looked around the room at the other members of the Wizengamot. “We are here to examine Harrison Alistair's offense under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!” 

“Cornelius,” the witch to Fudge’s left cut in. “Perhaps it is? After all, with clause seven…” 

“I am familiar with clause seven,” Fudge snarled. “And while that if there was a dementor, which I doubt-” 

This time, it was Harry’s father that cut in. 

“Whether there were dementors or not, it seems rather irrelevant,” he said, peering around the others next to him to look directly at Fudge. “After all, we have seen Harrison's reaction to the mere thought of their presence. To him, it was likely such a situation.” 

“Yes,” a wizard next to his father hummed. “It is a wonder something such as this has not happened before… Unless you have seen this behavior in your boy before, Gerald?” 

“I have not,” his father said, now turning to look at Harry. “But it is likely this has been building for some time. After what happened back in May-” 

“The boy was telling lies!” Fudge shouted, face brilliantly red. “He Who Must Not Be Named has  _ not returned _ !” 

Once again, the room was silent. Everyone was staring at Fudge, some in shock. Still, even Harry could tell that was a bad thing to do on Fudge's part. No one had actually mentioned Voldemort, or what Harry had said after the Triwizard Tournament. If there were any in the stands who had doubted the validity of this ‘hearing’, there was no denying it now. 

This wasn’t about Harry using magic outside of school, or outside of his family home. No, this was about discrediting Harry. This was about making Harry out to seem untrustworthy, like a liar. 

“The boy has been through a lot in the last year,” the witch to Fudges left said carefully. “After all, he was forced into the Triwizard Tournament against his will. And Sirius Black is still roaming free. He is only a boy, and has been through far too much stress for someone of his age. Can we really condemn such a young wizard, simply because he is dealing with trauma?” Turning, she looked to the others in the stands beside her. “So, those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?” 

For a moment, only that witch's hand rose, but after a pause, there were more. His fathers hand, followed by those around him, a few more, then two, and… A clear majority. At least two thirds of them. They all agreed that Harry should be allowed to go free. 

“Very well,” Fudge said, hand held tight around his gavel. “Harrison Alistair, you are cleared of all charges. However!” This time, Fudge turned to look directly at Harry’s mother. “Mrs. Alistair, I would encourage you to take your boy to someone who can help him with his… ‘trauma’. I’m sure someone at Saint Mungo's will be able to help him with his mental issues.” 

“I will do what is best for my son,” she said, coming forward to rest a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he stood. “And while I do what I can to help my son, perhaps I could encourage you to do your job and make sure that everything really is as it should be. It would look quite bad on us all, you most of all, if something like the Quidditch World Cup happened again after all your claims in the last two months.” 

With that, she made her way to the door. Harry followed quickly, Jonathan just behind him. She didn’t stop or turn to look at Harry, and he began to worry about what she must be thinking. He’d mentioned offhandedly in letters during third year how he had reacted to the Dementors, and he’s sure that Lupin or Snape had sent a letter about the incident on the train. Still, he couldn’t remember ever telling her just what he saw. 

They walked all the way to the elevator before Harry could muster the courage to speak up. He didn’t know if she was mad, or upset, that he had never said anything, but he could barely handle the silence anymore. 

“Mum,” Harry said, voice perhaps a little smaller then he would have liked.

“Later, Harrison,” she said, stepping into the elevator. 

They followed her in, standing on either side of her. The others in the elevator seemed to sense the tension, and grew rather quiet. A few people even took a step back, eyeing them almost nervously. When they reached the entrance, heading for the Floo stations, his mother stopped. 

“Jonathan, make sure Harrison gets back to the house. I have a few things I need to take care of.” 

His older nephew just gave a quick nod, and the two of them watched as she vanished into the flames of the Floo network. They headed back to the manor, though Jonathan wouldn’t stay. He gave Harry a pat on the shoulder, and a little nod, before he left. It was meant to be encouraging, but it didn’t help. 

Heading inside, Harry went to the library. Padfoot was rolled over on one of the chairs, having left it covered in fur. Normally, Harry would warn him about when Dizzy found out, or if his mother found him, but he couldn’t really muster the energy right now. With a sigh, he walked to the couch, sitting on the arm rest before leaning to land on his back on the couch. Reaching up over his head, legs still dangling over the edge, he reached out over his head, grabbing one of the throw pillows to cover his face and groan into it. 

Harry stays there a moment, the room quiet around him. He can feel Sirius looking at him, but he ignores it. This is his moping spot, so his dogfather could suck it. 

“Harry?” Sirius asked. 

He didn’t respond, not bothering with it. All he wanted was one hour. One hour, for Merlin’s sake, where he could just be a normal teen, and do normal teen things! Where he didn’t have to worry about a dark lord trying to kill him and everyone he loves, the government refusing to listen to reason and trying to make him look like a crazy mopey lunatic, or the fact that his godfather was on the run from said government and was basically the family dog! Now, he had to worry about his mother and father thinking he needed therapy for hearing screams from a woman that died years ago!

Just an hour. One  _ hour _ . That’s all he wanted.

“Harrison,” his mothers voice said, making Harry move the pillow from his face. She was standing next to him, smiling softly as she held a small cake box and a shopping basket filled with something he couldn’t see. “Come now, dear… I think it’s time you had a break.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if anyone noticed, but until further notice, these chapters will be out once every other week, usually on Friday or Saturday. This may change, for anyone who's curious, due to my baby sister due at the end of the month! So things are getting kind of busy at home, and I might not have time to do nearly as much writing. Wish me luck!


	3. Take a Break

Harry got up from his moping couch to follow his mother to his room. She didn’t say anything at first, simply leading the way. Once they were there, she set down the cake box, and her basket, and moved to sit on the floor next to the planter box with the bush his snakes lived in. With a smile, she patted the floor in front of her. 

Rather confused, he sat down on the floor. 

With a nod and a smile, she reached into her basket and began to unpack it. First was a small tarp, folded into a tight square, that was set aside. Next came a few small plant trimmers, as well packets of seeds and hand spades. These were put to the side with the tarp, as well as two sets of gloves. Then came the blanket. 

It looked hand knitted, and rather worn, like it had been made many years ago. It was also small, like it was meant to be used as a small throw blanket, or just something to wrap around one's shoulders when getting out of bed late at night. His mother smiled at his confusion, and leaned forward to throw it around his shoulders, pulling it around him. It felt… warm, but in a familiar way. Like he’d been wrapped in it before. 

Reaching up, Harry grabbed at the corner that hung over his right shoulder, feeling the soft white material. As he ran his fingers over it, his thumb felt something on the underside, and he turned it over to look. It was his first name, stitched in the same soft red as the border of the blanket. 

Head snapping up, Harry stared at his mother. Surely, this couldn’t be… 

“Supposedly,” his mother said, “James Potter's mother, Euphemia, started this for you just before her passing, and your birth mother Lily finished it… It was found in the Potter’s house, and put with their things after the attack.” She let out a sigh, reaching out to fuss with the blanket, pulling it a bit tighter around him. “I know before, you said you didn’t need to know all about the Potter’s and their families… That the photo album was enough… But I think you could used this.” 

Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, Harry did his best to not let his voice crack when he spoke. “Where… Where did you get this?” 

“The Potter family vault,” she admitted. “When we went to get your things, your first year, I got the key for their vault, where all the things from their house would have gone. I didn’t take anything from it, before today, but after you went to school, I went down there to have a list made of all the things inside. After all, James was the last Potter, and that family once had an impressive collection of magical items. 

“After what happened at the Ministry, and what you said about… About the dementors and Lily, I thought you could use something of hers. Or that she had made for you. I thought this would be best… After all, it’s been enchanted. Euphemia and Lily’s magics should be imbued in every strand they wove. Their love… It’s an old fashioned style of knit, long before even the times of the Hogwarts founders. That’s what gives it that warm feeling. It’s their magic and love reacting to you.” 

Pressing on the blanket, she smoothed it down on his shoulder and smiled. “It’s okay to grieve for them, Harry. It’s okay to take the time you need to come to terms with everything you’ve been through. And, if you want or need it, we can ask Skyla to find someone trustworthy for you to talk to about the things you’ve seen. But today, we’ll take a break. Take a step back from everything, and just do something for you, alright?” 

Slowly, Harry nodded, reaching up around him to grab onto the edges of the blanket to wrap it as tight around his shoulders as he could. He felt a little prickle in his eyes, and sniffed a bit, but smiled when his mother brought out a pair of plates and forks. The cake box had his treacle tart from Quinn’s. 

They ate, talking softly about things Harry wanted to do before he went back to school. Today, they’d be adding some grass and flowers to the bottom of his planter, under the whistling flower bush, but they could try to do something different every other week. After all, he deserved time off just like everyone else. 

His vipers were happy to have their home change, if it was only a bit. Even Gift, as grumpy as he was, gave a soft pleased hiss when Harry told them what he was doing. It had been a long time since Harry had the time to add to the garden, or even spend time with the snakes. He’d been so busy last summer, training, that he hadn’t gotten the chance. But he supposed it would be fun to continue this throughout the summer. He could expand his bedroom garden… 

“I think you should take them to school with you again,” his mother said, sitting beside him with the brilliant orange Chusi coiled around her hand and wrist. 

“Probably should,” Harry mused, tilting his head in thought as he looked over the bush to spot out the different snakes. “Honavi and Nikoa were a really big help in the maze, and I could probably use their help again.” 

“You’re right,” his mother hummed. “But I’m not talking about just Honavi and Nikoa. I’m talking about all of them. As you’re the only one who knows parseltongue at the school, they can be an outstanding help, gathering information for you. Or, if you can show them how to get around the castle, you can send a specific one to Ronald and Hermione to convey a message.” 

Harry blinked, thinking for a moment. He supposed they would be a fair bit of help, if they needed to do anything that would get them in trouble. They could also watch out for Harry in the dorms. After all, they still had no idea what Slytherins would be on his side and which would be under Voldemort’s power. And if they needed to meet in secret, he could probably send one to Sila to open a tunnel that led to the Chamber. Though, Draco knew about the Chamber, and could reveal Harry’s secret monstrous allie to Voldemort… 

Which, now that he thought about it… He still hadn’t told his parents about that. Sirius sort of knew, after he let it slip while talking to Draco at the last Gala, but he had managed to convince his dogfather to not mention it. Honestly, Harry was pretty sure Sirius forgot, what with the Tournament, and whatever secrets Sirius was keeping. 

“There is something else,” Harry told her, chewing his lip as he held out a hand, letting Visham coil around his arm. “Remember second year, and the Chamber of Secrets?” 

His mothers lips pressed into a line. “Yes… I remember how you recklessly went into a dark underground tunnel where you fought and killed a basilisk.” 

He laughed, tense and a bit nervous. “Yeah… About that ‘killed’ part…” 

She stared. “Harrison… You killed that monster. You didn’t leave it alive in those tunnels.” 

“She’s not really a monster… Actually, she’s really nice.” 

“Harrison!” she gasped. “You haven’t gone back down there!” 

Harry couldn’t help it. He smiled. “Yeah… Ron and Hermione have been helping me map out the tunnels, and decorate the main Chamber. Hagrid even built a bench that’s down there.” 

“Harrison,” she said, reaching up to massage her temples. “I don’t… I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore. You do so many dangerous things, and most of the time you don’t even bother to tell us about it. But keeping a _basilisk_?” She stopped taking a deep breath. “No, no. I am… I am calm… You are fine. And today is… your break day. We’ll… We’ll talk about this later.” 

“No,” Harry said, sitting back against the planter. “No, Mum, it’s okay. I actually want to tell you about her. She… not all that dangerous. Actually, the only thing that made her attack people in second year was because she was being controlled by Tom Riddle's diary. And her eyes were clawed out by Dumbledore’s phoenix. She doesn’t have any interest in eating people, and Hagrid does a great job of keeping her fed. She even sort of sees me and my friends as her own…” 

His mother was silent for a moment, frowning slightly. “Ron and Hermione?” she eventually asked. “Or… the others as well?” 

He winced before he could stop himself. Looking down, he fiddled with his hands as Honavi seemed to sense his discomfort and slid forward to coil around his wrist. 

“Draco too… She really likes him… Calls him ‘the pretty one’. She likes it when he comes down into the Chamber…” 

It was still hard to talk about the other Slytherin’s. It was killing him, not knowing if he could still trust them or not. He was sure that Blaise would side with him, they were fairly close after all. And Theo got along well with Hermione and had hinted at his dislike of his father. Crabbe and Goyle, while Harry wasn’t close with them personally, knew they would follow whoever was in charge in their year. Which brought him full circle, back to Draco… 

The blond was perhaps the one he was closest with in Slytherin. After the events of second year, they had this sort of bond, with Draco confiding in Harry every now and then. It usually wasn’t anything big, save for Draco’s confession about still being afraid of Sila. He was also the only one who that always had faith that Harry wasn’t just a half blood tiny boy that got through things with dumb luck alone, and they always danced together at the Summer Gala. 

And that night, at the Yule Ball, Harry couldn’t think about it without smiling. It had been a good night, filled with dancing and laughter. They had all been able to let go, mingle together to be friends. There had been no house barriers that night… And he hoped that, maybe, that could continue. 

“I know you want to trust him,” his mother said as she reached out, taking his hands in hers. “And I want you to be able to, but right now… Until we know for sure…” She shook her head, moving a hand up to smooth his hair back. “We’ll figure it out, alright? Later. For now, why don’t I go have Dizzy make us some tea?” 

After pressing a kiss to his forehead, she got up from the floor and headed to the door. She shot him a smile before she left, and moved down the hallway, leaving Harry to his thoughts. He just wanted to be able to talk to his friends again. 

XxXXxX

While his mother kept her promise about letting Harry have a free day every week. It was decided that Mondays would be it, though it didn’t really matter. The day after the hearing, they had started going through Animagus training. The first step was the mandrake leaf, which they couldn’t actually start for another week. 

“If I can’t even start it yet, then why are we doing this?” Harry asked, as he watched his father and dogfather in front of him. 

“Because,” Sirius said. “If you mess up, it can go really bad. And this will be our only chance this year. If we miss this one, then we’ll have to wait until you get back from Hogwarts next year.” 

“It could be useful,” his father said, humming. “If you happen to be something that would realistically be in the castle, such as a cat, you can use that form to go to and from places without worry.” 

Harry didn’t bother bringing up the Chamber and its tunnels, as he knew it would be useless. His mother had told them, of course, and while they agreed that the tunnels could be useful, Voldemort also knew about them. And Draco knew about the tunnels as well. It didn’t matter that Voldemort wouldn’t be able to enter the school grounds, and that made Harry the only one who could open the gates to the Chamber. It was a compromised location to them, and thus, unreliable. 

So Harry simply sighed, spending a portion of the next week preparing. Though, he had to agree that it was important that he know what he was doing ahead of time. There was an incantation he needed to memorize and repeat at dawn and dusk, a potion he would need to brew, and he’d have to be mentally prepared for the change his body would endure. Not only that, but he found that it was deceptively hard to keep something on the roof of his mouth without accidentally swallowing it. 

His mother also started the Gala planning about that time, as there was only a month left before the event. They would still have the party, half to keep up appearances and half in an attempt to gather information. Harry would still have the mandrake leaf, but the plan was to just have him make a small appearance at the beginning, maybe do a quick dance with Marrissa, before heading back up to his room with Ron and Hermione. It would give his family a chance to convince any Death Eaters present the idea that they didn’t believe Harry, play up the worried parents bit, in an attempt to ease them into a false sense of security and confidence. 

The following Monday, Harry was once again allowed his free day. He decided that he should take that day to visit Dudley again. Vernon hadn’t been happy to see him and Derrick, who was begrudgingly acting as his guard. After Petunia’s husband had left, Harry sat down for tea with her and Dudley, Derrick sitting beside Harry and jotting down notes in his personal potions book. 

“You have a different nephew with you today,” Petunia mused, eying Derrick wearily. 

She didn’t seem to like how quiet he was. Though, Harry couldn’t blame her. Outside of his potioneering basement, Derrick was a lot like Snape, withdrawn and reserved. They didn’t get to see him like Harry did, moving about and with that eager shine to his eye to discover something new. 

“Brother, actually,” Harry corrected, smiling lightly as he sipped his tea. “He’s very dedicated to his work, so it’s best not to bother him at the moment.” 

“He a police officer like the other guy?” Dudley asked, reaching to take another biscuit that Petunia had put out. 

“Merlin, no.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, Derrick is a Potions Master. Trained by one of my teachers, the best potioneer in the British wizarding world. You may remember him, Aunt Petunia. Severus Snape?” 

Instantly, her lips pursed, brow creased as if she had just sucked a lemon. “Yes… I do. That man… He lived down the street from us, back before Lily even got her letter from that… school. I never really liked him. You said he’s a teacher now? I’m surprised your headmaster would let him around children.” 

“Our headmaster is known for making poor or questionable choices,” Harry admits, “but hiring Professor Snape isn’t one of them. He may be strict, and sometimes he can be rather rough when critiquing a students work, but it’s just due to his high expectations. Though, this will be the last last year we’ll have to take Potions. That is, if we pass out OWL’s and don’t need the NEWT.” 

“Owls?” Dudley asked around cheeks full of biscuits. “Newts? You test on animals?” 

Harry laughed. “No, no. OWLs are Ordinary Wizarding Levels. They’re where you have to be in core classes to at the very least graduate. NEWTs are… They’re more of a college level final exam, before you move on to finding a job, or looking for a master in a field to teach you. Stands for Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test.” 

“Wizards use weird names…” 

He shrugged, taking another sip from his cup. Petunia hummed, lips still pursed. 

“Will you be taking your… ‘owls’ this year, Harry?” 

“I will. I’m fairly confident in most of my classes. Transfiguration is probably going to be the hardest for me, and maybe Potions. But McGonagal is a great teacher and Derrick has helped me learn a lot of Potions skills that will help me in the exam.” 

It was clear that she and Dudley didn’t seem to understand any of what Harry was staying, but he didn’t bother explaining. He was curious if she was actually interested in what he did at school, or if she was just asking to be polite. It seemed it was the latter, as she quickly moved on. 

“I’m sure you’ll do just as great as Lily did.” She took a quick drink of her tea, and cleared her throat. “Anything interesting happen recently? I know you’re preparing for this…” For a moment, Petunia trailed off. After a moment, she huffed. “Well, I certainly hope you are taking the time to take care of yourself.” 

For a moment, Harry wondered if he should tell her about the hearing. It did, after all, involve Dudley… If he had been charged, they would have come to Obliviate them. Still, he didn’t want them worrying about him. To know that he would be fighting this war on more than one front… So he thought of other things to tell them. 

“Not since I was here last,” he lied. “Not yet anyway. My parents hold a party, at the beginning of August, every year. Mum is busy with the planning. She does most of it herself, before getting help with set up. It’s lots of fun, though. I usually get to invite two of my friends from school, and they stay at the house for a few nights.” 

“I like parties,” Dudley said, looking almost hopeful. Clearly, his cousin was looking for Harry to extend an invitation, but Harry knew that he couldn’t ask him to come. It would be too dangerous, as they knew that there would definitely be Death Eaters there, who wouldn’t take kindly to a Muggles presence. 

“Not exactly the kind of party you’d be into, Big D,” Harry told him instead. “You’d have to get the wizard equivalent of a suit, and learn a ton of wizarding manners beforehand. Not to mention the dancing and all that.” The look of disappointment was clear, and Harry wished he could say yes. “But, uh, if you want, I can see about you coming out to the house sometime anyway? My birthday is soon.” 

Dudley perked up at that, and Harry was sure he was thinking about cake. He chuckled, shaking his head. He would likely just have Ron and Hermione over this year. They still didn’t know if they could trust the other Slytherin’s yet, and even if they could, it probably wouldn’t go over well to have them and Dudley in the same room. 

Stil, his cousin seemed happy, even if his aunt seemed warry. He was sure that Vernon would have a few choice words. Or… a lot of words. But he didn’t give a damn about what he thought, so why worry? 

They said goodbye soon after, so Harry and Derrick could head back to the house in time to welcome their mother home. Well, Derrick was more interested in getting back to his work. But their mother had gone out to take care of something for the Gala, but Harry wasn’t sure what exactly. 

In the meantime, Harry went to sit with his snakes, using the time to talk about Sila to them, telling them all about the giant sperant that Harry had met two years ago. They were split rather evenly between interested and cautious. Strup and Gift all seemed rather uninterested all togther, but agreed to go anyway. It might have had something to do with Honavi’s excited encouragement. 

As the day turned to evening, and evening into night, Harry started to get worried. His mother still hadn’t returned. When it got to around their usual supper time, Harry went down to check if maybe she had come back, and Harry just hadn’t been informed. He found his father standing in the entrance hall, scowling as he watched the door. 

“Dad?” Harry asked. 

His father glanced over. It was probably the most expressive Harry had ever seen him. With eyes filled with worry and his brow no longer creased with concentration, Harry knew that something was definitely wrong. 

“She will be back.” He was keeping his voice carefully calm, or as calm as he could manage. “There is no need to worry.” 

He didn’t sound nearly as convinced as he wanted Harry to believe. Something was definitely wrong. They had dinner without her, the table so tense, with no one really feeling like eating. Still, they hoped for the best. That she had simply gotten caught up in whatever she had been doing, and would be back by morning. 

She wasn’t. Instead, they got a letter from Saint Mungos. 

XxXXxX

**_Mother of the Alistair Horde, Attacked_ **

_There are many things that describe Zinnia Alistair. She is well known for being the matriarch of the large Alistair family, and her work in the Muggle Liaison office of the British Ministry of Magic. She is also known for her kind and trustworthy nature, her true Hufflepuff self shining through. What Lady Alistair is not known for, however, is being a victim._

_Early this morning, July 11th, the Lady Alistair was found in Diagon Alley, by a man leaving for work. She was unconscious, a bloody wound on her left temple, with her things scattered on the ground around her. Thankfully, her savior was quick to act and got her to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

_“It was just the right thing to do,” the man, who would like to remain anonymous, told the Daily Prophet during a quick interview. “I didn’t know who she was, just an elderly woman in need of help.”_

_Very little is known about Zinnia Alistair’s situation, after arriving in St Mungo’s. It is believed that she is, at the very least, awake. Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived quickly after her arrival to the wizarding hospital, not to emerge for another hour. Auror Shacklebolt did not give a statement when he was leaving the hospital, though his presence does cause a few questions._

_As many may know, Auror Shacklebolt is known to be in charge of the Sirius Black case. For the last two years, he has been carefully searching for the escaped prisoner. When Black first escaped, it was believed he would go after the Alistair family. He did, in fact, break into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to make an attack on the children of Zinnia Alistair. These Children are Skyla Alistair, Marrissa Blake, Harrison Alistair (AKA Harry Potter), and twins Mila and Hester Alistair._

_For the last year, Sirius Black has been outstandingly quiet, missing to the eyes of all wizarding Britain searching for him. Could it be that the dark wizard happened upon Lady Alistair as she was running errands? Did he hunt her down, and attack her? If so, why did he leave her alive? Perhaps he was startled, and had to leave or risk being caught?_

_Not long after Auror Shacklebolt left, many of the Alistair family could be seen rushing into the hospital building.The first to arrive were husband Gerald Alistair, and sons Derrick and Harrison Alistair. None stopped to give statements, and neither did anyone else who arrived afterward, including Daily Prophets own Emit and Neva Alistair._

_All our hopes and best wishes go out to the Alistair Horde. The Daily Prophet will keep a close eye on the events as they unfold._

XxXXxX

Harry’s lungs burned as he hurried up the steps to St. Mungo’s hospital alongside Derrick and their father. They had barely had a moment to grab their coats that morning before they had gone sprinting for the Floo fireplace. His father had been so flustered, as they all were, that Derrick had to grab a fist full of powder for him. 

After arriving at the hospital, a mediwitch was quick to lead them to where his mother was being kept. She was trying to tell them something, maybe calm them down, but Harry wasn’t listening. His heart was pounding, practically trying to beat out of his chest, as his ears rang with the rush of blood. 

When they finally arrived at the room, the Mediwitch carefully sliding the door open for them, Harry could have sworn his heart had stopped. 

There was his mother, so pale and feeble. She had been laid back, a white wrapping around her temple and forehead, eyes barely open. Harry could see a small red spot on the bandaging, and a reddish-brown line going down the shoulder of her robes, the ones she had left in the morning before. The sight made Harry sick to his stomach. 

As Harry was frozen in place, his father moved quickly forward, knuckles white from how tightly he was squeezing his cane. 

“Zinnia,” he breathed, shaking hand reaching out to hers on the bed. Voice thick with worry and agony. The stoic head of the Alistair family dropped to his knees, unable to hold himself up as he desperately held onto his wife's hand. “Zinnia… I… I’m…” 

As Derrick turned to the nurse to demand answers, Harry walked to his mothers side. Had she been left to suffer all night? While they had sat on their hands, wondering when she would return, had she fought for her life? If Harry had gone with her instead of to the Dursley’s, would she even have gotten hurt? 

“Gerald?” she breathed, voice almost a pained whisper. 

“Yes,” his father said. “Yes. I’m here.” 

She smiled, bittersweet and tired, as her hand weakly held onto her husbands. Turning her head, she caught sight of Harry, gave him that same smile, and closed her eyes. For a moment, Harry’s heart stopped. Was she… Was she dead? Had they arrived too late? Had Harry lost his mother, unable to do anything but stand there like a fool? 

“The potions must have finally kicked in.” 

Harry’s head snapped up, vision tunneling in on the mediwitch that had led the way. He felt his blood boil, nails digging into his palms as his hands curled into fists. Potion? What potion? 

As if sensing the tension from them, the mediwitch quickly spoke. 

“The pain reliever,” she explained, holding tightly to her parchment. “She… Uh… When she came in, she was in a lot of pain. So she was given a few potions to lessen it, along with some dreamless sleep, but it seemed like she was refusing to let her eyes close.” 

“What happened to her?” Derrick asked. He was probably the only one of the three of them that could speak at the moment. “Was she able to tell you?” 

“No,” the Mediwitch said. “She hasn’t said anything. And… Well, we’re still running tests, but we aren’t sure what exactly is wrong with her. Save for the head injuries, she has strange full body stiffness to the likeness of the Body Bind jinx, but it’s been too long. There’s also strange pupil dilation. We think it might have something to do with her head injury, but they’re oddly large, and we can’t be sure until it’s healed.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry finally spoke up. “Is she going to be okay?” 

The witch glanced at him, but couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. She wet her lips, likely a nervous habit, and looked down at the parchment in her hands. “I… We’re doing everything we can to help her. So, please, be patient.” 

XxXXxX

They spent the entire morning at the hospital, with Harry’s brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, trickling in as they heard the news. They sat and waited as long as they could, before they had to go home. 

By noon, all but Harry and his father had left. Derrick had gone home out of frustration, intending to use their large at home library to look for answers. Arrianna had gone to do the same, though at her own home in Diagon Alley. The others had wanted to help, but… There was likely nothing anyone could really do until she woke up. 

Harry tried to not think about it, even when his father told him to go home. 

“But I want to stay,” Harry tried, every nerve in his body lighting on fire as worry clouded his mind. “I want to be here for Mum, when she wakes up.” 

_If_ she wakes up… 

“I will call you, like everyone else,” his father said, not looking up from where he was sat. “So go home.” 

The words were not meant to be callous, but that’s how they came across. They were a cold chill that washed over Harry’s entire being. His father… didn’t want him here. He wanted Harry to go home. To leave his mother here, and wait for someone to tell him she was okay. 

But would she? Would she be alright? Or would she be in this bed until she passed? Would this image join Lily’s screams and that sickening flash of green the next time he ran into a Dementor? 

“Go home,” his father said again, strained as he tried to keep his voice level. “You have to continue your training.” 

Harry wanted to stay. He wanted to stay, to wait with his mother. But he knew that his father was right. He couldn’t sit around. If this really wasn’t a random attack, and she had been targeted by Voldemort, then Harry… Harry was to blame for his mothers injuries. If he had been stronger, had been with her, then he could have protected her. Or, better yet, he could have stopped Voldemort from even rising again. 

So Harry went home. He had training to do.


	4. The Order

Harry threw himself into training. It was the only thing he could do. 

His father didn’t come home that night, preferring to stay in the hospital, so Harry was left to sit almost completely alone at their dining table. He had grown so used to his parents, and at least Derrick and another family member, being at the table with him. Their meals were usually calm, reserved, but he would always have company. Tonight, he was left to poke at his food, the house elves moving nervously around him. 

They were doing their best, Dizzy and her crew. They smiled and made his favorite things, made sure that everything was cooked to perfection. Normally, their cheery attitude would make him smile, but now… Just a glance around the empty table, and his spirit was dragged into the depths of sorrow once more. 

Derrick, while likely still in the house, had locked himself away in his potions lab with stacks of books. Even Sirius was gone, having been missing since early that morning. Harry wondered if he was alright, or if… Or if Shacklebolt had found him. He couldn’t help the sag in his shoulders as the terrible thought crossed his mind. 

“Does Master Harry not like the food?” A particularly squeaky elf, Tikki, asked before Dizzy shushed her. 

Harry did his best to smile, try to reassure them that they had done a good job, but it felt hollow. “No, it’s as good as it always is. I’m just… not that hungry.” 

“You sure about that, Harry?” A cheerful voice asked behind him. It made Harry jump, turning around quickly. 

“Sirius,” he breathed, unsure of what to say. “Where… Where have you been?” 

With a shrug, the dark haired man tossed his jacket over his shoulder. “I had some stuff to do today. I didn’t hear about Zinnia until just now.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Harry couldn’t help but snap. “And my dad expected you to be here. He sent me back to continue training, and I had no one to train with. So, we have to work twice as hard tomorrow.” 

Sirius frowned. “Gerald sent you back here, to train, even though-?” 

“The full moon is tomorrow. Like you said, if we miss this chance, I can’t become an Animagi until next summer. So we keep working.” 

Moving towards the stairs, Harry did his best to not let his emotions spill out. He had work to do, and he couldn’t let weakness get in the way of his goals. 

XxXXxX

Harry woke early the next morning, his stomach empty and churning. He knew it was from not eating the night before, as well as not having lunch, but he really didn’t feel like eating. 

Still, he made his way down stairs, heading for the dining room. He didn’t get very far, as when he came down the stairs, he found Sirius at the bottom in the entry hall. He was leaning against the wall, nodding slightly at something. As Harry got closer, he was able to spot Snape standing by the opposite wall, speaking in a hushed tone. 

When he got closer, the two men stopped, seeming to not be at each other’s throats for once. 

“Harry,” Sirius said, putting on a grin. “What are you doing up already?” 

Snape didn’t speak, simply watching him with careful eyes. 

“There’s a lot of stuff to do,” Harry told them. “I need to start Animagus training today, and I know there are still a few defensive spells I need to learn from the books Maria set up. Plus, someone has to keep up on the preparations for the Gala until Mum wakes up.” 

The two seemed to share a look, and Harry knew where their thoughts were likely going. His mother was in the hospital, and he was worried about training? And a party? Well, Harry didn’t actually care about the damn Gala, or even his training, but his father’s tone had been clear the day before. He didn’t want Harry being stagnant in that hospital room, waiting. He had to be training. 

“I didn’t know you were coming today,” he said before the two men could speak, turning to Snape. “I thought you were busy with other things.” 

Snape scowled, looking down his nose at him, studying him, as if he were a brew that wasn’t going how it was supposed to. “With the recent… incident, I’ve been sent to retrieve you for the day. Your father has already approved, though begrudgingly.” 

Harry frowned, looking between the two men. He hadn’t spoken to his father in the last 18 hours… but Snape had? And where were they going? Harry had training he needed to do, which should take priority, but he couldn’t help but be curious. Whatever this was, it was big. 

“Here,” Sirius said, handing Harry a slip of paper. “You’ll need this to get inside.” 

Frowning, Harry took the slip of paper. It wasn’t very big, not much bigger than a playing card. On it, only one line was written, in an unfamiliar script. 

_ The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. _

“The Order of the Phoenix?” Harry asked, raising a brow at them. 

“Secret organization,” Sirius said. “Founded back before the war. I was a part of it, and Gerald apparently thinks you should know about it now.” 

“So… my dad knew about it, too?” 

“Hold off judgement until we get there,” Sirius said, before Harry could think of all the ways his father was an ass. “Hell, I didn’t even know we were getting together until I got the letter.” 

Frowning, Harry looked skeptically at his godfather, then at Snape. The two had never agreed on anything, save for his training and even then they argued about what needed to come first, but to have the two seem to agree on this was a bit of a shock. So Harry moved to follow the two out of the house. Sirius shrank and changed, until Padfoot was walking beside them. 

At the front gate, Snape held out his arm for Harry to take, and reached down to grab a hold of Padfoot. There was the twist and pull of apparition, Harry being pulled along to wherever Snape was taking him. They came out in an alley in a muggle city. They were behind some sort of apartment building. 

With a quick nod, Snape led the way towards a section of backyard fencing. At first glance, it didn’t look like there was a gate. As he moved to follow his professor, however, the fence and the building seemed to shift and stretch, another apartment appearing. A gate formed right where Snape reached, and there was a click as he flipped the latch up. 

“Well?” Snape asked, holding the gate open. 

Quickly, Harry moved inside, following Padfoot to the back door of the building. Before he could reach for the knob, the door was pulled open and Harry found himself face to face with Mrs. Weasley. 

“Harry,” she said, beaming at him. “You’re here. You look a little peaky, dear. Haven’t eaten yet have you?” She shot a look at Snape and Sirius, who both walked by and into the house. “Well, you’ll have to wait for breakfast, I’m afraid. Ronald’s upstairs, second floor. You can go wait with him until breakfast is ready. Just keep your voice down in the hall.” 

More then a bit confused, Harry moved to enter the building. He entered what seemed to be a dining room of sorts, with a table that currently housed a few people Harry knew. Or, rather, knew the names of. He recognized Snape and Sirius, of course. But seeing the Auror tasked with finding Sirius, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was a surprise. Remus Lupin, his third year defense teacher, was also seated at the table. The oldest Weasley son, Bill, was sitting at the table as well. 

Exchanging pleasant nods and smiles with Bill and Lupin, Harry made his way out of the kitchen. He entered a hallway, finding what was likely the front entrance. There was a set of long, old curtains hanging on the wall, likely hiding something unpleasant, and what seemed to be an umbrella stand made out of a severed trolls leg. He turned to his right, spotting what seemed to be an old and dusty sitting room beyond an archway by the bottom of a set of stairs. Above the archway was a row of plaques, each holding the shrunken and wrinkly preserved head of a house elf. 

Trying not to look at the elf heads, and being careful of where he stepped, Harry made his way upstairs. Reaching the first floor, Harry found a slim hallway with what looked like three rooms. One of the doors was open, letting Harry catch sight of Ron’s sister sitting on a bed, reading one what looked to be Ron’s old textbook for charms. The only reason he knew it was Ron’s was the fact that Ron’s book was missing it’s paper cover, thanks to a mishap at breakfast the morning before a test. 

Heading up the next set of stairs, Harry came out on the second floor. He arrived just in time to hear a toilet flush, and hear the sink run, before Ron came out of what seemed to be a bathroom. His friend looked rather tired, still in his pajamas, as he dried his hands on his shirt. 

“Ron,” Harry said, smiling a bit as he came up the final step. 

His best friend paused, turning to look at him. “Harry? When did you get here?” 

“Just now. What’s going on?” 

Ron gave a sort of half shrug as he led the way into a room at the end of the hall. “Not sure. Mum only moved us in here last night. She didn’t want to tell us- George, Fred, Ginny, and I -almost anything. Dad and Lupin barely managed to convince her to tell us what she did.” 

“So what did she tell you? What is the Order of the Phoenix?” 

“A group that fought against You Know Who, back during the first war.” With a yawn, Ron dropped back into one of the beds. “When you got attacked by that Dementor, Dumbledore apparently called everyone who was still around back to make the group. They’re supposed to have a meeting today.” 

“Do they know what Voldemort’s been up to?” Harry asked, making the redhead jump. “Where he is?” 

“I don’t know. Like I said, I just got here last night.” He paused, looking a bit cautious. “Harry, mate, are you doing alright? Heard about your mum, and-” 

“I’m fine,” Harry said, perhaps a bit more sharp then he had ment. “I just need to stay focused. I have a lot of training to do, and I can’t fall behind.” 

“Yeah, but your mum… Shouldn’t you be-?” 

“My  _ father _ is there for her.” The word felt like bile in his mouth, the anger churing his stomach into knots. “If she wakes up, he’ll tell me.” 

“When. When she wakes up. She’s gonna be alright, Harry. Shacklebolt is gonna find whoever did it.” 

Harry did his best to not clench his jaw and let his anger show. How could Ron look at him, tell him such lies? His mother was in the hospital, likely attacked by a Death Eater, and hasn’t woken despite almost 24 hours passing since her admittance and the beginning of her treatment. It was possible that she would remain comatose for days, weeks, even years. 

And if it was a dark wizard that did this… Dark magic could be at play… And dark curses… Well, there was a reason it was called dark magic. 

“Right,” Harry said, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “You… You mentioned a meeting?” 

Thankfully, Ron seemed to pick up on his urge to change the topic. “Yeah, Mum said that there’s a meeting going on today before breakfast. Says me, Ginny, and the twins can’t come down until it’s over.” 

“Before  _ breakfast _ ?” Harry snapped. “So,  _ right now _ ?” 

Ron blinked. “Uh, yeah…?” 

Turning, Harry marched back out of the bedroom. His vision was laser focused, honed in on the stairs. He heard a faint pop, the sound of voices hissing after him. But he was focused on one thing and one thing only. 

He was at the center of this god forsaken war, and he wasn’t going to be kept out of even the smallest of meetings. He didn’t give a damn about being quiet on the stairs. Whatever was sleeping would have to bloody deal with it. He was getting into that meeting, no matter what anyone said! 

As he reached the last few steps, Harry jumped past them, feet landing with a loud  _ thump _ on the floor. And then, the screeching started. 

The old curtains flew apart, revealing a frame. The painting was of an old woman in a black cap, who was screaming like it was the last thing she would ever do. She was drooling, eyes rolled back as the yellowing skin of her face was stretched taut by how wide she opened her mouth. More portraits, further up the wall, began to wake and shout with her, though not as loud. 

“Filth!” the woman’s portrait screamed. “Scum! Products of dirt and vileness! Begone from this place! How dare you foul the home of my ancestors!” 

Harry, ears ringing from the high shrill voice, thought quick. He did his best, making his face smooth over and look agreeable. 

“Yes,” he lied, trying to be loud enough to be heard. “You’re right. But please, lower your voice.” 

He’d learned a few things from Draco and the other Slytherin’s about lying, though he didn’t think he was all that great at it. He remembered, during third year, how Blaise had jokingly made fun of him for his ‘incapability to lie’. 

“ _ The best lies have kernels of truth in then, _ ” Blaise had said. “ _ But almost every time I’ve heard you lie, you try to give the whole truth, and it makes the lies easy to spot. _ ” 

“ _ It helps if you play into the persons want to be right, _ ” Nott had added. 

“ _ Exactly! Like when Draco asked about that shirt he found in Hogsmeade. It looked awful, but you being you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, so you should have said that he’d certainly stand out in it. _ ” 

The portrait seemed to quiet, looking at him confused. She likely wasn’t used to people agreeing to her. “Who are you?” 

“Harrison James Alistair,” he said, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back. Look the part of the pure blood son, a proud Slytherin and blood purist. That’s what she wanted, so Harry could play into that. “Last son of the Alistair family.” 

“Alistair family,” the woman sneered. “Blood traitors, the lot of them!” 

“Not me,” Harry said, spotting the door to the kitchen open down the hall. He could see Sirius moving to come closer, but Harry motioned him to stop behind his back. “I believe in what Salazar Slytherin wanted to do. I’ve even managed to open his Chamber of Secrets and control the beast within.” 

“Open the Chamber?” she asked in wonder. “You’re a Parseltongue? Heir of Slytherin?” 

“I am indeed a Parseltongue.” After a pause, held out a hand, as if to offer it to her. “Please, Mrs…?” 

“Walburga Black,” she said, sounding pleased. “Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” 

“Well, Lady Black, perhaps you would prefer a different spot. Perhaps another room? Or closer to the door?” 

She seemed to ponder this a moment, before nodding. “Yes. The door.” 

With a nod, Harry reached out and pulled the curtains down, before reaching for the painting. It was heavy as he lifted it up, and off the wall. It tilted, and the woman caught sight of Sirius. She began to scream again. 

“ _ You _ !” she howled. “Abomination! Blood traitor! Shame of my flesh!” 

Harry didn’t waste another second, and quickly threw the curtains over and around the painting. There must have been some kind of one way silencing charm on them, as the hall instantly fell silent. Just to be sure that they wouldn’t fly open again as soon as he wasn’t holding them in place, Harry tied it shut with the corners of the thick fabric before turning to his gathered audience. 

“This should probably go in the basement,” Harry said, holding out the tied portrait. “And then we can get this meeting over with.” 

XxXXxX

It took a bit longer then Harry would have liked to get the portrait moved to the attic. Sirius kept asking questions, as did a few others. But he didn’t want to bother with answers, and swept each one aside. His focus was solely on the meeting. 

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Weasley continued to insist, even as he moved to enter the kitchen. “You’re just a boy!” 

“I’m more involved in this than any of you,” Harry counted, eyes first locked on Mrs. Weasley, before looking at the other Order members, daring them to contradict him. “It’s my blood that he used to come back, me that he’s tried to kill every year. It’s me that he’s out to kill because of a prophecy.” 

That seemed to surprise most in the room, save for only Sirius, Snape, and Lupin. Everyone else glanced at each other, looking tense and confused. 

“I know more then you probably realize.” It came out almost as a chuckle. “And maybe even more. So there’s no way you can keep me out of this meeting. In fact, it would be a waste of time, since Snape and Sirius will just relay everything back to my family.” 

Moving past her, Harry took a seat at the table. Ron and his siblings were behind him, looking like they wanted to join. Still, their mother didn’t seem to want to let them in. Honestly, Harry didn’t know why she was bothering. Harry was just going to turn around and tell Ron everything anyway. 

Still, Harry simply gave Ron a nod, who returned it, and he led his siblings back upstairs. 

Finally, Mrs. Weasley turned around to rejoin the table. She seemed pleased, though she shot Harry a wary look. With her attention now on the meeting, they finally began. It did strike Harry as odd, however, that Dumbledore himself didn’t show up for a meeting of an organization he was in charge of. 

They started on their first order of business. Members of the Order have started following known Death Eaters. There was only so far they could go, only so close they could get, without getting caught or spotted. Still, they had picked up a bit of information. The ones Harry had seen that night in the graveyard often vanished starting mid afternoon. They would leave their workplaces, dressed in dark and inconspicuous robes, and appeariate away. Harry knew that the information was basically useless to them. Of course they would disappear. They were likely going off to see their master. 

They seemed hesitant to move to the next topic, but Harry pressed, with the help of Snape, Sirius, and Lupin. Apparently, the full prophecy about Harry and Voldemort was recorded and hidden in a room in the Ministry’s Department of Mysteries. While no one aside from Dumbledore knew what was said in the prophecy’s entirety, from what Harry understood, it likely held information that could help either side. Harry had to agree that, while whatever that information was could help their side, if it helped Voldemort in any way, it was best to not risk it. 

Still, a guard duty had been set up so that someone from the Order was watching the door at all times. And it was already paying off. Lucius Malfoy was spotted several times near the door to the Department of Mysteries. That made it much too dangerous to send someone in to retrieve it. Not to mention that someone being Harry, as only someone that the prophecy was about could retrieve it. 

Other then that, there wasn’t much else that needed to be discussed. Hagrid had apparently gone with Madam Maxime to ask the Giants for help, while Lupin was meant to leave shortly to look for a nomadic pack of werewolves. Charlie Weasley, while not present, was apparently asking foreign wizards for help in Romania, while Bill had been accepted in a desk job at Gringotts, so that he could be more involved. 

As the conversation turned to the two eldest Weasley sons, Harry suddenly remembered Percy. He had been at the hearing, and wasn’t here today. Could it be that the third Weasley son had become estranged from his family? Harry, not thinking it vital in this moment, resigned himself to ask Ron about it later. 

The meeting seemed to end there. Mrs. Weasley announced that she and her family would stay behind to ‘decontaminate’ the house. She’d done a bit yesterday, enough to make at least the first two floors livable. But upstairs was an unknown, with lots of little things hiding about. Harry would help, but he’d need to return to the main house after breakfast. 

Leaving Mrs. Weasley to cook, Harry watched as the Order members began to file out. Shacklebolt gave Harry a bit of a nod, while a rather young looking witch with bright pink hair gave a wide grin and a wave. The others seemed rather uninteresting, so Harry decided to pay them no mind. 

“So,” Lupin said, smiling softly at Harry. “Sirius said you cast a full patronus. A stag?” 

Harry nodded, giving the man a glance over. He looked… tired. Like he hadn’t slept in days. Was he pushing himself too hard? But after a few seconds of thought, Harry remembered what tonight was. The full moon… 

“It is,” Harry said, frowning. “But are you okay? The moon… and your condition….” 

“I’m fine,” the man reassured. “Did Sirius ever tell you… Prongs? Why we called James that?” 

“His… Animagus form was a deer, right? Prongs, like the antlers?” 

Lupin chuckled. “Sort of. When we had first tried coming up with our… codenames one morning in the Shrieking Shack, it had been fairly easy for most of us to decide. Sirius was Padfoot, because when he first transformed he looked a bit more like a puppy, and had the largest feet you’d ever see. His paw pads practically took up his entire foot.” 

“Hey,” Sirius gasped, sounding offended even though he was grinning. 

“We decided I would be Moony,” Lupin continued. “Due to my… condition. And Peter… Well, he had the fattest tail any of us had seen on a rat, and it looked quite like a worm, so he was Wormtail. But James… We couldn’t figure out what to call him. Sirius wanted to call him ‘Stag’, like a male deer, but also… Oh, SIrius, what did you say?” 

“I told him ‘We should call you Stag, because you’re never gonna get a date’.” The two men laughed. 

“Yes, that. Peter had suggested we call him Fawn, because his form still looked young, like a baby deer. So James had gotten huffy and transformed to help us get a better look at his ‘antlers’. They were so clunky and fat looking, like he was going through puberty all over again. So he started strutting around, trying to show off, and…” Lupin tried to stifle his laughter, though he didn’t do a very good job. “He got tangled up in an old curtain. We had to try and chase him down to untangle the thing, but he panicked and kept kicking and running into things. It’s how the bed in one of the rooms was broken.” 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh with the two men, smiling a bit. “So you called him Prongs, so he’d never forget that embarrassing moment.” 

“Exactly,” Sirius said with a wide grin. “Oh, and he hated it! But when his full antlers grew in, he was  _ so  _ proud of himself. He was strutting around for weeks, trying to show off.” 

This was… nice. Hearing about James. Harry had heard quite a bit about Lily from Snape, but nothing but bad things about James, if anything at all. He found himself wanting to know more about his birth father, wondering what the man had been like. And he wondered if he’d be a stag when he finished his Animagus training. Would he get his antlers tangled up in curtains? Would his friends joke about it and call him Prongs?

The thought didn’t last for very long, as the other Weasley’s came down. He sat with Ron, Mrs. Weasley serving everyone breakfast. Save for Snape, who seemed to be focused more on a bit of parchment that looked like it was a shopping list. As they ate, Harry told Ron, more in depth, on what he had been doing the last few weeks. 

“Wow,” Ron said, though a mouthful of sausage. “You really are busy with training. I wouldn’t be able to keep any of that straight.” 

“I’m not sure how I have either,” Harry admitted. “And tonight, with the full moon, I start Animagus training.” 

His friend nearly choked. “ _ Animagus _ ? You’re- Mate that’s so bloody illegal!” 

“But it will be useful. My father even agreed with Sirius. And you know how much he hates doing that.” 

“You’re going to be in a lot of trouble,” Mrs. Weasley said. “If you’re caught…” 

“If being the key word,” Harry said with a cheeky grin. “It’ll be fine. I just need to keep the leaf on my mouth for a month. I mean, it’s not like I’m going anywhere other than here.” 

This only seemed to worry Mrs. Weasley more, and the conversation moved to Hermione. She had gone to see Viktor in Bulgaria, and had sent only a few letters. Harry didn’t mind the distance, and was just glad she was having fun, but he would be more then ecstatic when she returned for his birthday. 

When breakfast was over, Harry left with Sirius and Snape back to the Alistair family home. While his professor had to leave, he did give Harry the name of the potions book he’d need for class this year. Harry would be sure to start in on it in his down time, if he had any. 

After Snape left, Sirius worked with him on all the things that Harry would need to remember for the Animagus ritual. He couldn’t spit out or swallow the leaf, and they’d be relying and hoping for good weather, so if it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen. He’d have to be cautious, if Harry tried practicing spells, as the leave could make it hard to enunciate incantations, or the leaf could come out. 

The night, Harry went out into the back garden, looking up at the full moon as it shined its light down on him. With a glance at Sirius, who gave a grin and a thumbs up, Harry held up the leaf, before sticking it in his mouth. It was… disgusting. The taste was horrible, and he wasn’t sure that he would be able to do this for an entire month. Still, he’d stick with it and make this happen. 

“Gross, I know,” Sirius said. “But having an animagus form, and an unregistered one, is crazy helpful. Just try to not talk too much, okay?” 

“I could ask Hermione if her parents have anything to help,” Harry suggested, before stopping. He blinked, frowning. The damn leaf was making a whistling sound when he said S sounds. “This is going to be torture.” 

“Just don’t talk and you won’t blow your cover,” Sirius suggested, smirking. “Now, come on. We should get inside before someone spots us and things we’re up to no good, illegal shit.” 

“But we are doing ‘illegal shit’.” 

“Exactly!” 

XxXXxX

For the next week and a half, Harry stays carefully focused on his training. He hadn’t been able to ask Hermione if her family could give him something to help keep the leaf on his mouth, but he’d gotten used to keeping it in place. Honestly, he was finding the adjustment to be much easier than it should be. Sirius said he was doing better then he had back in the day. 

In the passing days, Harry had barely seen his father. The man rarely came home, save for at night, when he came back to clean up and sleep before leaving again. Most days, Harry wouldn’t have even known if Dizzy didn’t tell him when he came down for breakfast. Rarely would Harry catch a glimpse of his father arriving, on the off chance Harry got up in the middle of the night. 

It was after that week and a half that something changed. He woke early that morning, planning to try yoga at Skyla’s recommendation. She said it might help him keep limber, and help him relax before his daily training. He had been planning on doing it in the garden, but he’d caught sight of the owl flying in. 

Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, in a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt, Harry watched Dizzy pop in to take the bird. She took the letter, gave the owl a treat, and checked the sender. 

“Master Harry,” she gasped, turning her big eyes to him so fast that her large ears slapped against her head. “Letter from St. Mungos!” 

Moving quickly, Harry snatched up the letter, tearing it open. A quick glance, and he nearly dropped it. “Dizzy. Get my father.” 

“Right away, Master Harry!” With a pop, she was gone, leaving Harry to reread the letter over and over as he heard his father upstairs. 

“Harrison!” his father called, breathless as he reached the bottom of the stairs. 

Turning, Harry felt the tears welling in his eyes finally fall down his cheeks. 

“She’s awake.” 


	5. Surprise

They wasted no time, leaving for the hospital immediately. His father cast a quick glamour on him, so no one would notice the leaf, before the apperated. Running inside, his father didn’t bother checking in with the nurse, and led the charge down hallways and corridors, into an elevator and out again. 

Finally, they reached the room on the fourth floor, in a room at the end of a hallway. They were both heaving, with Harry’s lungs feeling like they would burst as he stood just behind his father in the doorway. 

“Gerald?” a soft voice called. “Harrison?...” 

Instantly, Harry’s eyes snapped open, still panting as he stared. There was his mom, tired and weak, but  _ awake _ . After almost two weeks, she was finally awake, just sitting there, confused. 

Harry wanted nothing more then to step forward, to hug her, beg her to never do that again, but it didn’t feel real. As much as he had hated it, he had been so sure she wouldn’t wake. It almost felt like this was some cruel joke. That if he moved, or even blinked, she’d be comatose on that bed again. 

His father moved first, the adrenaline seemingly gone from his limbs. After one shaky step, he nearly fell, but pushed through as he reached for his wife. She reached in turn, lifting one hand from the sheets. When their fingers met, the energy seemed to drain from Harry’s father, and he fell to his knees at her bedside. 

“Oh, darling,” she breathed, smiling lightly as her husband held tightly to her hand. Looking up, she tilted her body to reach her other hand out to Harry. “Harrison… You must have been so worried.” 

Chest swelling with emotion, tears ran down Harry’s cheeks. He stumbled forward, so much like his father had, and took his mothers hand. His jaw ached as he clenched his teeth, trying to not let the cries escape from him. His mother only smiled, reaching out to gently wipe the tears from his eyes. 

“No tears,” she told them, looking from Harry to his father. “I’m alright now. So no more tears, alright?” 

Swallowing thickly, Harry did his best to nod, speaking up when it seemed his father couldn’t. “R-Right…” 

XxXXxX

Once they had all calmed down, it became clear that none of the mediwizards knew what had happened. They hadn’t been able to discover what was wrong, or how she had woken up. His father didn’t seem all that pleased with that answer, but his mother had just nodded and smiled, taking hold of his hand to run her thumb along his knuckles to placate him. 

“She should be fine to go home,” the nurse told them once the mediwizard left. “So if you want to check her out, that should be fine. But…” Glancing out of the door, she leaned in. “I think you’re right. About… About You Know Who… And… This is just my opinion, but, I bet he tried to put a dark curse on her. So keep an eye out, alright?” 

Harry wanted to tell her how grateful he was, but his mother shook it off. She smiled, waved a hand, and thanked the woman for her concern. They’d just need a wheelchair, and then they’d be off. 

They had to take the floo back to the house, as they would have a hard time appeariating with the chair. Still, Harry wheeled her into the house and out of the Floo fireplace. Dizzy and the elves had done their job, and they were greeted by the entire family. They gathered in the sitting room, giving hugs and kisses, so glad to see the family matriarch return. 

The rest of the day seemed to drag on forever, as Harry sat vigil next to her chair. She seemed… normal. Like nothing had happened to her. But he was worried. She had confessed that she didn’t recall a single thing from that day, other than leaving the house to run errands. It was likely whoever had attacked her had made the attempt to Obliviate her. 

Over the next week, she continued on her work for the Gala, even at the insistence of the family that she should be resting. 

“There’s no way I’m just going to sit around,” she told anyone that dared to try and argue. “I need  _ something _ to do while I recover. It’s this or planning Harrison’s birthday party, but he insists that he doesn’t want anything big this year.” 

It was true. He didn’t want anything for his birthday. It would just be Hermione and Ron, and maybe Dudley, but they were more likely to spend the day talking about Hermione’s trip to Bulgaria. He took a moment to ask his mother about having Dudley over, and was rather surprised when she actually said yes. It was just for the afternoon, she had reasoned, nodding. 

So, for the next week, Harry made all the arrangements. He had trouble casting with the mandrake leaf, so it was better to not practice any new spells, in case they backfired. It meant he had lots of time though, so making sure that someone would be sent to get Dudley, and that his cousin would arrive first before Ron and Hermione, was actually rather easy. 

On his birthday, Harry waited in the floo room with a book, reading as Jonathan was out getting Dudley. They’d arrive just before noon, giving Dudley enough time to get used to the house and have lunch before Ron arrived at one-thirty. And, right at eleven-fifty-six, as if on cue, Dudley came coughing and stumbling out of the floo. 

“The hell?” Dudley coughed, waving a hand in the air to try and get the smoke to dissipate. 

“You were probably moving too much,” Harry chuckled, standing up. “Stirred up the powder as it went down. Makes it extra dusty.” 

Dudley blinked, not looking like he really understood, but he stood by as Harry thanked Jonathan, and waited for the man to leave again. He then followed Harry out to the living room, when he was startled by Dizzy popping in. He actually screamed, making Harry laugh, as Dizzy used a feather dusty to quickly clean the large boy off. 

“What was that?!” Dudley asked once the elf had huffed and vanished again. 

“That would be Dizzy,” Harry explained, leading the way to the kitchen. “She’s a House Elf. They’re… servants. Bound by magic and stuff to serve a family. One of my friends, Hermione, thinks it’s slavery, but they enjoy serving a family.” He paused. “Now that I think about it… Hermione hasn’t seen any of our elves since she found out they aren’t paid…. You’ll probably get to see her get all worked up.” 

They sat to eat lunch, with Dudley asking question after question. He didn’t seem to understand very much of what Harry explained, so he usually ended up just saying ‘magic’ as a way to explain how something worked. 

When Ron arrived, the conversation came to a near standstill. After all, Ron wasn’t interested in Muggle things like his father, and the two didn’t know the first thing about the other’s culture. 

“D,” Harry said, getting their attention. “You like sports, right? I remember once you said you wanted to play rugby.” 

“Rugby?” Ron asked, confused. “What’s rugby?” 

Dudley set into explaining the game, and how it was played. Ron seemed interested, if only because it was a sport, before talking about Quidditch. They even went outside to show Dudley the hoops and some of the balls. That was how Hermione found them, Harry standing back by the door as Ron and Dudley tried to argue about which sport was better and more fun. 

“I feel like I’m missing something,” she said, setting down her suitcase as she stepped out of the back door. “Who is this?” 

“My cousin,” Harry explained. Turning, he called out to the two other teens. “Hey, Ron! Big D! Hermione is here!” 

The two stopped in their argument, and came over. Ron was grinning like an idiot, just happy to see their friend. Dudley, on the other hand, was a bit more shy, and stayed back while Ron gave the girl a hug. 

“I’m told you’re a muggle relative of Harry’s,” Hermione said as she stepped forward, holding out a hand. “I’m a muggleborn myself. I’m Hermione Granger. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Uh…. Muggle?” Dudley asked, glancing at Harry for help. 

“Honestly, Harry.” She huffed, shaking her head, going into lecture mode. “A muggle is the term used to describe someone who doesn’t have magic and wasn’t born in a magical family. A muggle _ born _ means someone who was born in a muggle family, but has magical powers. There are also squibs, which are non-magical people born to magical parents, and-” 

Harry could practically see Dudley getting dizzy from the sudden info dump that was Hermione in lecture mode. 

Stepping in, Harry placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She paused, looking at him for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she nodded and picked up her suitcase again. 

“I’ll go put my things away then.” 

And with that, she was off. 

“Sorry ‘bout her,” Ron said, elbowing Dudley jokingly. “She’s the brightest witch of our age, but she’s a bit of a nutter sometimes.” 

Dudley didn’t say anything, simply nodding, though it was a bit nervous. Deciding that, maybe, it would be best to head inside, Harry led the way to the dining room. Calling out to Dizzy, he found the house elf looking rather irate. 

“Cards, Dizzy,” he said, trying his best to not piss her off any more then Hermione apparently already had. “Please.” 

She pursed her lips, before vanishing with a loud crack, rather then her sharp little pop. Harry ran a hand over his face, trying to think of something to say. Hermione came down at that point, just in time to watch all of the elves arrive with boxes. They tipped them out onto the table, sending a cascade of different types of cards out on the table. 

WIth a groan, they spent the next hour trying to sort them. Dizzy had brought them every kind of card one could imagine. Greeting cards, birthday cards, playing cards of all sorts… Honestly, Harry was surprised that there were so many kinds in the house. 

Eventually, they managed to get them sorted, and were trying to figure out a game to play. Exploding Snap and other magical games were quickly out, as Dudley would have trouble playing them. There was a regular deck, which meant they could play Scabby Queen, or even Go Fish. There was also Uno… 

After three rounds, everyone was sure Uno hadn’t been the best choice. In fact, it seemed like it was the worst choice they could have made. But they were all determined now, and refused to lose. It took almost an hour for them to finish one game, since Ron was able to make a strategy, Hermione was just smart enough to stall the game, and Harry and Dudley were just trying to win. 

By the time they had finished, it was already late afternoon, and his mother had come down to have cake with them. She was on strict bedrest, as she still had trouble walking on her own, and mostly used the wheelchair. She continued to insist that she was fine, but as they ate, she broke into a coughing fit. 

Harry was quick to check on her. Even as she wheezed, she insisted she was fine… Still, Harry worried, as did his friends and cousin. Well, Dudley seemed a bit more focused on the cake, but that's beside the point. 

Once he had gotten his mother back to her room, he came down to say goodbye to Dudley, who was being taken home by Jonathan. With his cousin gone, Harry and his two friends went up to his room to talk. 

“It’s troubling,” Hermione said, frowning ever so slightly. “That the doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her.” 

“I know,” Harry sighed, sitting on the floor by his planter. “One of the nurses… She said she believes me, and that she thinks Voldemort tried to put a dark curse on my mum. I’ve thought about it before.” Holding out one hand to let one of his snakes slither down his arm, Harry sighed. “It’s… probably true… That she was attacked because she’s my mother.” 

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, nodding to herself in thought. “That’s likely the case.” 

“Hermione!” Ron gasped. “You can’t say that! It’s not Harry’s fault-” 

“I’m not saying that Harry is to blame,” she corrected. “Think about it. What’s the best way to show Harry that  _ nothing _ is safe from him? What’s the best way to taunt Harry, in a world where seemingly no one knows that Harry is telling the truth.” 

Harry nodded, holding the sunshine yellow snake Avashi in his hand. “You attack what is most important to me. My mother…” He shook his head. “Not enough to kill her, just enough to hospitalize her. Maybe even permanently. But enough to send a message.” 

They fell into a silence, letting that information sink in. 

XxXXxX

For the next four days, the three of them get ready for the gala. Ron and Harry mostly just need to be refitted for dress robes, but Hermione gets pulled into dress shopping with some of Harry’s female relatives. 

When Hermione was busy with ‘the girls’, as she had started calling them, Harry and Ron helped with a few final preparations. They helped move chairs, organize tables and flower arrangements, all while trying to remember their game plan. After all, if anyone got too close to Harry, they’d likely notice the mandrake leaf, which Harry only had to endure for another week. 

They’d come up with the idea that while Harry had been shut up at home, he’d been prescribed raw ashwagandha leaves. Derrick had suggested it, actually. He’d gotten a fresh batch of the plant, which he was using to experiment on making a more advanced and potent version of the calming drought. It was supposed to be used for several things, but a common one seemed to be reducing stress. 

When the day of the gala arrived, and Harry was getting dressed with Ron, he suddenly felt a wave of anxiety. The other Slytherin’s from his year would certainly be here. He’d likely have to talk to them at some point. And he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for that. 

“Come on, mate,” Ron said, bumping him with his elbow. “Hermione and I are gonna be here. Those stupid snakes aren’t going to get close.” 

Harry smiled, wondering if he should remind Ron what house he was in. Still, he just shook his head, meeting with Hermione at the top of the stairs. She looked quite lovely, with a near replica of her Yule Ball dress. This one was a gradient, with a soft pink at the top fading into an almost Gryffindor red at the bottom. 

“You look great, Hermione,” Harry said, smiling. “Viktor’s supposed to be here, right? I’m sure he’ll be just as impressed.” 

She smiled, trying to play it off like it didn’t mean anything to her, but Harry could see the faint dusting of pink on her cheeks. The two had grown so close during the course of the Triwizard Tournament, and Harry was glad that their feelings seemed to be mutual. 

Heading down stairs to the party, Harry went to stand by his mother while Ron went to the food table for a quick snack and Hermione went off in search of Viktor in the throng of people. It was hopefully going to be a short night for Harry, as he glanced around to check for his house mates. He didn’t spot any, giving him hope. 

“Harry!” a chipper voice said behind Harry, making him jump as a hand landed on his shoulder. “Been a while!” 

“Blaise,” Harry said, turning to look at his ‘friend’. “Er, yeah. It has.” 

“You never owl, you never floo call,” Blaise joked, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders, like they were best friends. “You’ll make a guy wonder. How’s about a dance? Real quick?” 

He hesitated. He knew he shouldn’t, that he should simply say he didn’t feel like dancing. But a glance at his mother showed her give a smile and a nod. A small but precious reassurance that she would be fine. 

“Fine, but only-” 

The other boy didn’t let him finish, giving a small cheer before pulling Harry out onto the dance floor. He led their dance, making Harry give quicker and sharper movements then he was used to. In fact, it was making Harry rather dizzy, and he was forced to use his tongue to press the mandrake leaf up against the roof of his mouth, lest he accidentally swallow it. 

“Blaise,” Harry groaned. “What in Merlin’s name-” 

Again, Blaise wouldn’t let him finish. “Come on!” 

Instantly, Blaise was tugging Harry off again. He didn’t get a chance to ask where they were going, before there was a click of a door opening. Suddenly, cold evening air washed over his face, and Harry blinked as the light of the half moon lit up his vision. 

They were in the garden, breeze soft over the hedges as in the distance, Harry could hear the whistling flowers. It was a gentle scene, one that would be relaxing at any other time. But tonight, it was nerve wracking. Draco and Theo stood in the garden, waiting. They turned to face him, and he was instantly on guard, muscles tensing as it took everything within him to not draw his wand. 

“Harrison,” Darco said, far more familiar then Harry was comfortable with at the moment. “You’re here. Good job, Blaise.” 

“Not a big deal.” The boy next to Harry gave a cheeky laugh. “Lady Alistair practically ordered him to come with me.”

Blaise gave Harry a slap on the back, making him stumble forward. He clamped his teeth down on the end of the Mandrake leaf, keeping it in his mouth as best he could. Still, it tickled the back of his throat, making his cough. 

“Careful, Blaise,” Theo said. He was far too observant without his nose in a book, and peered at Harry curiously. “He has something in his mouth. Looks like… some kind of vegetation?” 

“Wait, seriously?” Blaise asked, peering at Harry as well. “I didn’t even notice. What do you have, Harry?” 

Looking sharply around the group, Harry stood up straight. His eyes flicked from the two in front of him, and Blaise beside him. His wand was tucked into his sleeve, just out of sight unless someone knew where it was. If he had to, he could draw and fight them. But… if it didn’t come to that… if he could get out of this without causing a scene… 

“An ashwagandha leaf,” he said, slow and careful. “For stress.” 

Surprisingly, the trio of Slytherin’s looked… worried? 

“Ashwagandha?” Draco demanded. “It’s used for stress in small doses, but it’s also used more commonly for anxiety and depression. And an  _ entire  _ raw leaf? Harrison, why on earth…?” 

“Large doses can cause headaches, dowsiness, and nausea,” Theo added, looking concerned. “Harry, perhaps you should spit it out.” 

Harry blinked, glanced between the two, then blinked again. Something… didn’t seem right. They sounded very worried. Like they weren’t here to attack him at all. But that made absolutely no sense. Their parents were Death Eaters, and they were more likely to follow in their father's footsteps… 

“So,” Harry said slowly, lowering his guard, if only a little. “You’re… not here to attack me?” 

“Attack you?” Draco demanded. “Harrison, is that why you haven’t sent a single owl? Though, I suppose it was for the best. Father was watching my mail quite closely.” 

The three boys all nodded in agreement, which only confused Harry more. 

“Then what’s this about?” Harry asked. 

“We know, Harrison,” Draco said, as Blaise moved to stand next to him. “The truth. About what you said. About… the Dark Lord and...” 

When the blond trailed off, looking away, Blaise spoke up again. 

“We didn’t want to believe it at first,” he explained. “I mean, if he’s back then that would mean another war. And no one wants that. But these two. You said their fathers were there, called them out as Death Eaters. What were they supposed to do? Turn on their families?” 

Harry wanted to say yes, but he knew that would be wrong. He, out of anyone, knew how important family could be. If he had learned that someone in his family had turned dark… He probably wouldn’t be able to fight either. 

But if they knew the truth now, did that mean they were going to side with him? Were they going to help him, back him up in the coming battles? He wouldn’t be able to ask that of them, but… It would mean everything to have their support, to know that they would help him when he needed them… 

“But we’ve decided,” Draco hummed, voice as smooth and nonchalant as if he was talking about what to have for dinner. “While we can’t directly oppose our parents, Theodore and I will help you where we can. During the school year, we will do what we must to make it seem like we are obeying our father’s orders. Blaise, as his mother plans to remain ‘neutral’, will help you more directly. After all, if my father has his way, the Ministry will be within Hogwarts walls, where they will keep an absurdly close eye on you.” 

“The Ministry… within Hogwarts?” 

The blond nodded. “After… your incident-” 

“Which I’d like to hear more about,” Theo cut in. 

“-Father said that perhaps the schools previous methods and current condition should be examined. That perhaps the decennial inquiry should be moved up, and an inquisitor be sent to observe the coming year. It will be voted on Monday morning.” 

Harry frowned. A ministry inquiry at Hogwarts could be troublesome. If he was going to be making the attempt to get more students on his side, a pair of eyes on him 24/7 would make talking to students from other houses all the more difficult. Simply moving around the school would be troublesome. 

But he had a way of getting around without being seen. Two, in fact. The cloak that belonged to James Potter and the tunnels of the Chamber. He would be able to move freely, especially so if his animagus form was a cat or a snake, or even a rat. It would be an easy way to move around, gather information, find out who really couldn’t be trusted, and if this inquisitor was going to be a problem or not.

“I’ll have to talk with Ron and Hermione,” Harry said carefully. “And bring it up during a meeting. But it could be to our advantage. Having a ministry official, who is close to Fudge? Under the right circumstances, we can get more information on how deep the stupidity goes.” 

With a sigh, Harry ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it at the back of his neck. “It will make out of house communications difficult, though. I’ll have to rely on Ron, Hermione, and my relatives a lot more for gathering allies…” Turning to look at his house mates, Harry smirked a little. “But I still have a few tricks up my sleeves.” 

The three Slytherin’s were staring at him, each with a different expression. Blaise seemed to be mildly impressed, while Theo looked just a bit surprised. Draco, on the other hand, was full on gobsmacked, mouth open and eyes wide. Harry blinked, tilting his head. 

“What?” 

Blaise spoke up first, chuckling a bit. “I never expected you to be so... devious. To think the cute, innocent, little Alistair Horde boy we met in first year would be such a tactful and well thought out leader!” 

“It is a surprise,” Theo agreed, nodding a bit. “Right, Draco?” 

The blond jerked, as if the address had startled him. He reached up, fiddling with his tie as he cleared his throat, a nervous or embarrassed habit Harry had seen him do only a few times over their four years at Hogwarts. It might have been Harry’s imagination, but he could have sworn there was a light dusting of pink on the blonds cheeks. 

“Not at all,” he said, flat and simple. “Harrison has shown great tact with his actions before. He found that stone first year, and saved my life in second. And let’s not forget that he was able to succeed without worry in all the Triwizard tasks last year. He’s simply putting that drive and passion into finding solutions for the problems of the coming year. Isn’t that right, Harrison?” 

Harry blinked. “I guess? I mean, I’m more focused on ending the war before it really begins.” 

Draco nodded, smirking slightly to himself. “See? Still the noble, self sacrificing Harrison. Wanting to save everyone before they need saving.” 

“Not really,” he said, this time much more certain. “In fact, my only goal right now is putting an end to Voldemort.” 

The three jumped, just like many did at the sound of the name. They feared it, as if saying it would call the man to them. But Harry wasn’t afraid. 

“Harry,” Theo whispered. “You shouldn’t say his name…” 

“Why not?” Harry asked. “Why fear a name? Dancing around it only makes you  _ more _ afraid. So say it. Say his name. Because he’s actually trying to kill me, and I’m not afraid. In fact…” A dark smile grew on his lips. “I’m bloody pissed. He went after my mother, I’m sure of it. And  _ no one _ can harm my family and get away with it.” 

Not bothering to wait for them to speak, Harry turned and made his way back inside. He had some new information to share. 

XxXXxX

His father was greatly interested in the information that Harry passed on from Draco. He nodded and hummed, making sure that Sirius would pass everything on to the Order, before admitting he would have to vote in agreement. Even if he wanted to find a way to decline the proposal, it would look suspicious for him to contradict his previous opinions. After all, he’d suggested this very thing back in Harry’s third year, after Sirius had first been seen in the castle. 

His father went to work that Monday, and returned just in time to call another family meeting. 

“Fudge has decided to move up the inquiry,” he stated simply. “However, it seems that Dumbledore may be unable to find a Defense teacher, which would be more advantageous of a position.” 

“It’s true,” Moria said, frowning. “The inquisitor, for all it’s flare, can’t do much unless the inspection is shown to be unsatisfactory. And, at most, they’d only be present for a week, maybe two. Having a ministry official as a  _ teacher _ would guarantee their presence in the school for the entire year.” 

“But it’s not just any teacher,” Emit added. “It’s the Defense teacher. They could stonewall offensive training, saying that it isn’t needed.” 

Harry’s mother nodded, a hand coming up to cup her cheek. “It would seal the fates of so many… Think of all the children who could get caught up in the war, and not know what to do…” 

For a moment, the table was silent. That thought rolled through everyone’s heads, of children getting pulled into a conflict they had no part in, and being killed because of the Ministry’s foolishness. It was a horrifying truth that would come to pass if they didn’t do something. 

But what could they do? None of them had a natural inclination to offer Dumbledore help. It would be suspicious if any of them extended that hand. After all, the entire family had a bad history with Dumbledore. Many of them had openly disagreed with his actions, calling him out in some way for his questionable methods. 

“I could apply,” a gentle voice called from the far end of the table. 

Instantly, everyone turned to look at the young french woman. Maria LaRue, the previous defense teacher of the french wizarding school, Beauxbatons. She’d been released from her job, due to her pregnancy and the fact that she would have to leave half way through the school year. But… it made sense, having Maria offer to take the position, even just for a few months. While she had married into the family, she had no personal grudge against Dumbldore. If fact, they could even have Madam Maxime say she suggested it to Maria. 

It was also a good opportunity to get more allies in the school. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I've hit a sort of... wall with my writing, so I'm going to take a break. All ongoing works, including this one, will be on hiatus until further notice. Hopefully, I'll be back in action before the end of July.


	6. Summers End and Looney Lovegood

The day after Maria went to Hogwarts to see Dumbledore, they finally got their school shopping list. It seemed that, while Maria would be teaching them, they wouldn’t need any new books. They would be reusing books from previous years. She explained, when Hermione asked her, that it was because of their OWLs, to make sure they had a clear understanding of everything they needed. After all, their teachers should have taught them much of what they would actually need for the exam. 

Harry, in the meantime, moved on with his Animagus training. On the night of the tenth, they were glad to see that the sky was clear. After spitting out the leaf into the vial, Harry plucked one of his hairs to add, before putting in the dew and chrysalis. And with that, they put the vial in a sealed box and hid it in the attic, where no one but the elves went. 

It wasn’t too long before Harry had to go get it. Not two days later, the afternoon sky was filled with thunder and lightning. They moved into the ballroom, rain pelting the glass windows as lightning flashed on the other side. 

Sparing Sirius one last look for reassurance, Harry recited the incantation one last time. “Amato Animo Animato Animagus…” 

Opening the box, he pulled out the vial. The mixture had become a deep, blood red, with the larger things seeming to have melted down into it. There was only one swallow worth of the potion, and Harry knew that if this failed, there would likely not be another chance. Still, Harry uncorked the vial, bringing it to his lips, and tossing it back. 

For a moment, nothing happened. Harry wondered if, maybe, he had messed up somewhere. Had he broken the mandrake leaf too much? Was there not enough dew? Or had the box been disturbed somehow? Because it didn’t feel like it had worked. 

It was in that moment that Harry felt a twisting in his gut. Letting out groans of pain, he bent forward to clutch his stomach as he dropped to his knees. He felt sick, like he was going to throw up, but couldn’t. Something must be wrong, Harry thought, as he hissed and clawed at his shirt. 

And then, as suddenly as it came, the pain was gone, leaving behind only a strange feeling of being off balance. Harry blinked, looking around as he found himself… much closer to the floor then he would have thought. And his clothes… were gone? They were in a pile on the floor next to him, rather then on his body. 

“Well, damn,” Sirius said, voice surprisingly loud and making Harry jump. “I could have sworn you’d be a stag. Or at least a dog like me.” 

“ _ What do you mean? _ ” Harry mewled, before stopping. 

With a bright grin, Sirius had knelt down, holding a small mirror for Harry to look into. But it wasn’t his reflection that stared back at him. In his place was a tiny, fuzzy, pitch black kitten with big green eyes. Just under his right ear was a faint speckling of white lines where his scar should be. 

“Never would have guessed you’d be a little kitty,” Sirius added, reaching down to pick Harry up by the scruff. “Gotta say, I am a little disappointed. Would have loved to have another dog around.” 

Harry gave a small hiss at being man handled like this. He pulled up his feet to his body, tail curling to show his displeasure. Sirius only laughed. 

XxXXxX

Harry spent as much time as he could practicing his change. He’d gotten into a bit of a routine with it, actually. 

First thing in the morning, after waking up, Harry would take deep breaths and attempt the change. Then, whether he got his clothes to change with him, he did a loop around the second floor, popping in and out of rooms like the library and his fathers office. He’d sit and wait outside his parents room, until his mother would roll out, seated in her now regular wheelchair. 

“Good morning, Harrison,” she’d say, reaching down to scratch at the top of his head. She always said it with a smile, even if the circles under her eyes were bigger then they normally would be. 

The mediwitches said that she was recovering, and while she should recover fully, there was the possibility of it taking years. The problem with her legs, the weakness and difficulty walking, seemed to be lasting, even getting worse as the days went by. Most days, she couldn’t even manage to pull herself out of the chair. 

After returning to his room, and getting dressed if need be, Harry would go down to have breakfast before meeting with Sirius for training. His father rarely joined them now, too busy with work in the morning, and too busy caring for Harry’s mother in the evening. Sirius had stopped arguing with him, being more polite in their rare encounters then Harry had thought possible. 

When the clock struck noon and Sirius would leave for an Order meeting, Harry would take lunch to his mother. She spent most of her time in the library, looking through books in an almost fevered manner. 

“I had gotten a book,” she would tell whoever asked what she was looking for. “That night, I had… There was a book, I’m sure. But it wasn’t with me when I went to the hospital. It was important. I’m sure it had been… But I can’t… I can’t remember what it was…” 

“It’s alright,” Harry always reassured. “It’s okay. We’ll help you look, until you remember.” 

She would always smile, reaching out to pat his hand. 

Harry wanted her to get better, he really did, but she seemed almost… obsessive with this missing book. She wasn’t even sure what kind of book, or where in Diagon Alley she would have gotten it. Or if she herself had been in possession of the book. It could have easily been in her attacker's possession. After all, the mediwitch had mentioned blunt force trauma… 

XxXXxX

“I feel like I should go with you,” Sirius said, off-handedly, as Harry picked up his trunk after breakfast September first. 

“You know you can’t,” Harry sighed in return. “It’s too dangerous. Mum and Dad aren’t going, so you’d just be a random dog running around. It would be too suspicious.” 

His godfather hummed. “Wasn’t talking about Kings Cross. Figured I could come to Hogwarts with you. Hide out in that Chamber you keep the blind Basilisk in.” 

Harry snorted. “Yeah, that’d be brilliant. Come live in the big castle where everyone still thinks you’re a murderer with the big fuck all snake.” He shook his head. “You still have work to do for the Order, and with Snape going back to Hogwarts too, you’re kind of the only one that’s working both with them and my parents. You’re needed here. Just look out for my mum, okay?” 

Sirius laughed, a somewhat bitter sound. “You sound like James. He was always telling me when I was in over my head. When did you grow up so fast?” 

“Who knows,” Harry joked, giving Sirius a nudge with his elbow. “I’m gonna be fine, Padfoot. Besides, with all I’ve done, what could Voldemort possibly throw at me that I haven’t seen already?” 

This time, the laugh was genuine, and Harry went into the fireplace with his handful of Floo powder. Before he threw it down, he smiled at his mother, who blew him a kiss from her spot by the door. And with that, he threw down the power, calling for King’s Cross, Platform 9 ¾. 

For a moment, Harry stood in the fireplace at the station, looking around at the thick crowd. He took in the hustle and bustle, the loud voices of parents telling their children to behave, and saying goodbye. Harry smiled, and went to find Ron and Hermione on the train. 

He eventually found them, as they were doing their best to stuff their luggage into the overhead space of what had become their usual compartment. 

“Ah, Harry!” Hermione said. “Oh, wonderful! Ron and I have to go to the Prefect carriage for instruction, but we’ll be back to sit with you real soon, alright?” 

He blinked, brow creasing into a frown. “The Prefect carriage?” 

She blinked in turn. “I thought you said you told him,” she accused, turning to Ron with a disapproving look. 

“I said I was going to,” the redhead tried. He looked rather uncomfortable as he turned to Harry. “Hermione and I… were made Prefects this year. So we have to go see the Head Boy and Girl about our instructions.” 

For a moment, Harry felt a pang in his chest, though he wasn’t sure what it was. Hurt? Jealousy? He wondered why they hadn’t just told him. Or… why hadn't he been made a Prefect? But he quickly shook the thoughts and feelings off, and gave them a confused grin. 

“Congratulations.” His voice was kept carefully calm, smooth and easy, not betraying a single emotion. “Don’t worry about your things. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

The two shared a nervous glance. 

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked, her own voice clearly filled with worry and guilt. “If you rather we stay we could…” She trailed off, floundering for something to say, something that wasn’t a lie.

“I’m sure,” he assured. “Go do your Prefect thing.” 

They gave a quick promise to be back soon, before heading off down the train. Harry hated to admit it, but he was rather jealous. He knew that Hermione deserved being made a prefect, and that she would do a great job. But… Ron? He hated to even think it, but Ron wasn’t a good student. His average test scores were Acceptables at best, and Poor at worst. At least Harry had never gotten a failing grade. 

He hated thinking so negatively about one of his friends. Of all the Hufflepuff’s Harry knew, Ron deserved to be the Prefect for the house. He was loyal, probably to a fault, and he always helped the younger students when he could. Through thick and thin, Ron had stood by Harry and done everything he could to help, just because Harry was his friend. And if that wasn’t a Hufflepuff, then Harry didn’t know what was. 

Before Harry could think too much about it, the compartment door opening drew his attention. He looked over, finding Marrissa, followed by Ginny Weasley and another girl. 

“Harry,” Marrissa greeted, smiling as she stepped inside of the compartment. “Is it alright if we sit here?” 

Harry gave a bit of a shrug, and gestured to the bench across from him. The girls took a moment to put up their trunks, stacking them with Harry’s, before they sat down. He wasn’t sure what to say to them, now that they had sat down. His summer had been filled with chaos and training, and he wasn’t… just some student now. He was well trained, even rather practiced, and he had no doubt that he could hold his own in fights where they would likely fall. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to start the conversation. 

“I don’t think you’ve met,” Ginny said, gesturing to the girl Harry didn’t know. “Harry, this is Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is Harry.” 

She was an odd looking girl, that was for certain. With dirty blond hair that came down to her waist, and abnormally large eyes that made her look continuously surprised, she had a face that Harry would have remembered. Her choice in clothing was also a bit odd, as she was wearing a necklace made of what seemed to butterbeer caps. It was her name that struck a chord with him, however. He’d heard, usually offhandedly from students in other years, about a Loony Lovegood.

“You’re… a Ravenclaw, yeah?” Harry asked in an attempt at polite conversation. “A year below me and Marrissa?” 

The blond girl gave a slight nod, her eyes seeming to never blink. She stared at Harry, now seated opposite him. It unnerved Harry. 

“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure,” she sing-songed, before reaching into her coat to pull out a magazine. She opened it, bringing it up to hide her face. Only, the magazine, The Quibbler, was upside down. 

With a sigh, Harry turned to stare out the window at the open country. Though it was sunny in some places, there were thick and gray clouds scattered about, casting shadows over the entire train when they passed beneath them. He tried to not let his mind wander to all his troubles. He was safe on the train, his friends and family were safe here. They always had. Except for third year, when the Demementors… 

“Harry,” a chipper voice called from the door, catching his attention. 

He turned, surprised to find Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang standing there. Though, he was more surprised by Cedric, who was already wearing his school robes. There was a new badge in place of Cedric’s Prefect one, the yellow face bright with a metallic ribbon cutting across it, the words ‘Head Boy’ in clear view. 

“Cedric.” Harry’s voice was carefully calm, doing his best to not let the slow and strange boil of anger rise in his stomach. “I would have thought you’d be in the Prefect meeting.” 

The Hufflepuff nodded, giving the compartment a quick glance around. “Yeah, I was. We just finished up, and I heard you were in here. I had thought we’d have a chat, but it can wait.” 

For a moment, Harry wasn’t sure what could be so private between them that others in the room weren’t welcome to hear. They weren’t really friends, Ron certainly knew him better, and they’d barely interacted, even in passing, until the Tournament. Wherever it was, it likely had to do with Cedric’s support in Harry’s fight against Voldemort.

“Sure,” Harry told him. “Maybe after dinner.” 

With a polite nod, Cedric turned to leave. Cho smiled, just as polite, though a bit more cautious, before she turned to follow her boyfriend. 

Ron and Hermione returned not long after the Head Boy’s departure. They squeezed in at the ends, closest to the door, just in time for the food cart to go by. Harry was more then happy to pay for snacks for everyone, and soon they had piles of candies and sweets to eat as they pulled out the hidden table to start a game of exploding snap. 

“I can’t believe Dumbledore made Malfoy the Slytherin Prefect instead of you,” Ron groused, tossing one of his cards down on the pile. “You’re the most liked Slytherin around!” 

Rolling her eyes, Hermione set down one of her own cards. “Being a Prefect isn’t just about popularity, Ron. Prefects need to keep up a standard grade average, be respected enough that other students will listen to them, and be capable of maintaining school rules and policies.” 

“And right now,” Harry added, “Not many seem to really trust anything I say. At least not publicly.” 

“So you only got two out of three,” Ron said, throwing down another card. “That’s still more than half!” 

Harry rose a brow at him, a silent question of whether the youngest Weasley son had forgotten all the times they’d broken the rules together. Just first year alone, Harry had been out after curfew nearly every other night after getting James Potter’s cloak, had broken into the restricted section of the library, and led the three of them on a mission to steal a magical artifact from a forbidden corridor. 

“Okay, one out of three,” Ron sighed. “But it’s not like anyone knows about most of that.” 

Harry shrugged, wanting to move off of the topic. He could feel another roll of anger deep in the pit of his stomach. If it wasn’t for the Daily Prophet and Rita Skeeter calling him a liar, or the Ministry trying to tear down his reputation, he would have been an outstanding Prefect. He would have been able to help others in ways he hasn’t so far. 

But he took a deep breath and forced the feeling away, instead turning to Hermione. 

“So who are the other Prefects?” 

For a moment, she looked thoughtful. “Well, there’s Malfoy and Parkinson for Slytherin, of course… And Hannah Abbott is the other Hufflepuff Prefect.” 

Ron suddenly grew quite excited, dropping one of his cards and setting it off. “And you’ll  _ never _ guess who the other Gryffindor Prefect is!” 

Harry shot their resident Gryffindor’s a look of confusion. “Uh… I don’t know. Seamus Finnigan?”

The redhead grinned wide, leaning in close, as if he were about to share a secret. “Neville.” 

He couldn’t help his jaw dropping. “ _ Neville _ ?” 

“ _ Neville _ .” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Neville is doing quite well, considering he isn’t using a proper wand. And he’s been tutoring struggling underclassmen,  _ and _ upperclassmen, with Herbology for the last year.” Reaching out, she began to help clean up the mess Ron had made of the table. “And, for Ravenclaw, it’s Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil.” 

“You went to the Yule Ball in a group with Padma Patil,” a soft voice said, sounding like someone just waking from a dream. 

Harry blinked, turning with everyone else to look at Luna, who had set her magazine down on her lap. She was looking at Ron as well now, as unblinking as she had been earlier. 

“Er…” Glancing at Harry, Ron nodded. “Yeah. She and her sister went with our group.” 

“She was rather disappointed,” Luna mused. “When she heard boys were joining the group, she had been hoping she’d get to dance, but you never asked her.” For a moment, she looked thoughtful, or maybe confused. “I don’t think I would have minded. I don’t like dancing very much.” 

As she moved to lift her magazine again, Harry finally got a better look at the front. There was a poorly done drawing of Fudge, only recognizable by the lime green bowler hat he wore. But the drawing hadn’t been what caught his attention. One of the featured article titles, displayed on the cover, was ‘SIRIUS BLACK: Villain or Victim?’

“Can I have a look at that?” Harry asked Luna, perhaps a little too sharply. She turned her gaze fully to him, and held out the magazine. 

He opened it with a near feverish urgency, scanning the index to find the proper page. Once he had it, he flipped the pages, landing on a spread with another low quality illustration. It was so terribly done, Harry wouldn’t have known it was supposed to be his Godfather if it hadn’t been captioned. The cartoon was supposed to be Sirius, standing on a pile of human bones with his wand held out in front of him, the headline written in bold letters above it. 

**_Sirius - Black As He’s Painted?_ **

_ Notorious Mass Murderer OR Innocent Singing Sensation? _

Harry felt his brow knit together, reading that sentence over again. It was true that Sirius did enjoy music. His godfather had been more then happy to tell Harry all about how he’d taught himself guitar and how Remus had introduced him to muggle rock and roll. He used to play songs by Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, and the Rolling Stones as a teen as a form of rebellion at Grimmauld Place. But Harry had heard Sirius sing, when he would let loose and dance when he thought no one was watching, and ‘sensation’ was… not a word Harry would use to describe his voice. 

_ For fourteen years Sirius Black has been believed guilty of the mass murder of twelve innocent Muggles and one wizard. Black’s audacious escape from Azkaban two years ago has led to the widest manhunt ever conducted by the Ministry of Magic. None of us has ever questioned that he deserves to be recaptured and handed back to the dementors. _

_ BUT DOES HE? _

_ Startling new evidence has recently come to light that Sirius Black may not have committed the crimes for which he was sent to Azkaban. In fact, says Doris Purkiss, of 18 Acanthia Way, Little Norton, Black may not even have been present at the killings. _

_ “What people don’t realize is that Sirius Black is a false name,” says Mrs. Purkiss. “The man people believe to be Sirius Black is actually Stubby Boardman, lead singer of the popular singing group The Hobgoblins, who retired from public life after being struck in the ear by a turnip at a concert in Little Norton Church Hall nearly fifteen years ago. I recognized him the moment I saw his picture in the paper. Now, Stubby couldn’t possibly have committed those crimes, because on the day in question he happened to be enjoying a romantic candlelit dinner with me. I have written to the Minister of Magic and am expecting him to give Stubby, alias Sirius, a full pardon any day now.” _

Before he could stop himself, Harry let out a groan. “It’s all rubbish.” He’d been hoping the article would be something that was close to the truth, or actually  _ possible _ . Something that he could bring up, just to see what people thought. But this was absolute rubbish. 

“ _ Harry _ ,” Marrissa hissed, getting his attention. 

“It’s true!” He shot back, waving the magazine. “It’s all absolute rubbish! He’s not a ‘singing sensation’. You and I both know that Sirius is absolutely pants at-” 

Suddenly, Harry stopped. He turned to look at Luna, who’s eyes had grown angry, boring into Harry like she was going to set him on fire with force of will alone. 

“My father,” she said, voice devoid of the dreamy air it had before, “is the editor.” 

He wanted to be nice, to say that he was sorry, but Harry just couldn’t. This was about Sirius. About his Godfather, who was innocent, but wasn’t some man named ‘Stubby Boardman’. 

“Your father doesn’t know anything about Sirius Black,” Harry told her, dropping the magazine on her lap. “And neither does that woman. Sirius Black was James Potter’s best friend, my Godfather, and he would have died before handing the Potters over to Voldemort. He was  _ framed _ , by Peter Pettigrew. Why don’t you have your father put  _ that _ in his magazine.” 

Getting up from his spot by the window, Harry forced his way through to the door. He needed some air, away from all this. Wasn’t the train ride supposed to be his chance to relax? His last chance before he had to deal with figuring out which Slytherin’s he could trust, convincing the entire school he wasn’t crazy or lying, and dealing with whatever scheme Dumbledore had cooked up to try and get him on his side. And that was on top of preparing for OWL’s, his job as Quiddich Captain, and keeping up his training. He just needed some time to  _ breath _ . 

Jerking the compartment door open, he came face to face with Draco. His fellow Slytherin was flanked by Vince and Greg, who stood tall and dimmer then usual. All three looked somewhat surprised by the doors' sudden opening, with Draco’s hand even raised as if to grab the handle. 

“What?” Harry hissed, every hair on his body seeming to stand on end. 

“Harrison,” Draco said, voice holding a false air of indifference that seemed to waver at Harry’s tone. “I was just coming to check on you. See if you’d be joining us in the Slytherin compartment this year, or-” 

“No.” Again, his voice was sharp, as that anger he’d been pushing back boiled over. He held his head high, the corner of his lips curling into a scowl. “I don’t think I will,  _ Malfoy _ . Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

He didn’t wait for the Slytherin’s to move, his shoulder hitting roughly against Draco’s as he stepped toward Greg. Instantly, the tall boy took a step aside, out of Harry’s way, to let him pass. Perhaps Goyle had more brains in his head then Harry thought. 

Walking with purpose, Harry went down the train to the bathroom. Thankfully, the stalls were empty, leaving Harry to sit without worry of being found. He put his elbows on his knees, locking his fingers together beind his neck to keep his head down. After letting out a heavy breath, Harry inhaled slowly through his nose, counting to four. He held it, making a mentel count to seven in his head, before exhaling again through his mouth to the count of eight. 

Harry wasn’t sure how long he was in there, but he continued to breathe and quell his emotions until his mind was clear and blank, just like Snape had taught him to do for Occlumency. He didn’t know where the anger had come from, how it had boiled so rapidly, so suddenly, until he was about to snap. But it hadn’t felt wholly his, as if he had been feeling someone else's emotions so strongly, he had been about to burst at the seams. 

The thought sickened him, and he did his best to push it from his mind. It was absurd. The only one he could even remotely have a connection with was Voldemort, but he had learned Occlumency for a reason. He couldn’t possibly be feeling his emotions… 

When he finally came out of the bathroom, his mental shields up and prepared, Harry found that the weather had finally made up its mind. Rain splattered against the outside windows, sun fully hidden behind thick clouds. He didn’t feel like returning to the compartment yet, and instead walked up and down the train. 

When the lamps came on, Harry finally went back to the compartment. He arrived to find Luna sat with her Quibbler put away, and Ron and Hermione gone. Marrissa looked up at him, concerned, as he moved to reclaim his seat by the window. 

“Harry,” she said, slow and careful. 

He just shook his head, leaning his cheek against the cool glass. It helped calm him. And he really needed to stay calm right now. 

When the train began to slow, and they could hear the familiar ruckus of students rushing to get their luggage and pets assembled. Ron and Hermione would be off supervising the departure, leaving Harry to deal with their things. Thankfully, even after what he said, Luna seemed more then willing to help him. He pulled down his trunk, and pulled Ron’s with it, while Marrissa got Hermione’s. They didn’t really talk much, instead just heading for the carriages. 

As they went, Harry waited for the familiar call of Hagrid, knowing that the large man would call for the first years at any moment. However, it was someone else's voice that called out with a lantern held high above their head. A woman, sharp and cheery, but oh so familiar. 

“First years!” Freya called, her face lit by the lantern across the sea of new students. “Over here! All first years, this way!” 

“What’s Aunt Freya doing here?” Marrissa asked, her own eyes locked on the older Alistair. “I thought she was going to Romania with Uncle Kale.” 

Harry, at a loss for words, shrugged. He didn’t know what his sister was doing here either. Maybe Dumbledore had called her, gotten her to take Hagrid’s place due to the half-giant still being out on an Order mission? That wouldn’t explain why Harry hadn’t been told, why at least his father hadn’t seemed to know. 

He told the girls to go on ahead without him, deciding to sit and wait for Ron and Hermione. Slowly, the first years filled the boats and disappeared across the Black Lake. The carriages filed off a bit faster, disappearing down the road toward the castle. 

By the time Ron and Hermione arrived, finished with their Prefect duties, Harry was one of the only students left waiting by the carriages. He stood, greeting his two most trusted friends, and headed for the last carriage, able to ride it with just the three of them. 

“Where are our things?” Ron asked, as they climbed in. 

“Marrissa and your sister took them ahead,” Harry explained. “I figured I’d wait for you two.” 

Hermione hummed, glancing back towards the lake as the horseless carriage was pulled away. She looked contemplative and uneasy. “Did you know your sister would be here?” 

Blinking, Harry turned to look at her fully. He glanced toward the lake, frowning, but shook his head. “No. I… didn’t actually. Why? Did you get to speak with her?” 

“Only briefly,” she sighed. “She just said that she’d be taking over for Hagrid, before she had to go. I suppose that means she’ll be teaching Care of Magical Creatures as well. And it’s well enough. While very… interactive, his lessons can be a bit extreme.” 

Ron wasn’t able to hold back a snort of laughter. “Right. Like the woman who lived wild in Hungary, got imprinted on by a Hungarian Horntail, and then brought it to raise as her ‘son’ is gonna have lessons that are less extreme.” He then turned to Harry, now looking a bit concerned. “You don’t think Hagrid has been sacked, do you?” 

“No.” Harry’s response was nigh instantaneous, coming out before he could stop it. “I mean, it wouldn’t be a smart move on Dumbledore’s part. Hagrid is more familiar with the castle then anyone, and knows the Forbidden Forest like the back of his hand. He’s friends with the centaur, Firenze, and who knows what else in there. Not to mention that Hagrid is the only connection Dumbledore has to the giants, and is loyal to a fault.” 

“Well,” Hermione mused as they finally reached the castle. “Either way, it seems like we’ll be having an interesting year…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everybody! It's been a while, but I have returned. New chapters will be posted every other Sunday, so keep an eye out for chapter seven


	7. First Night Back

After reaching the castle and entering the Great Hall, they said their goodbye’s for the evening and went to their separate tables. Harry walked with purpose, keeping a careful eye out for anyone he knew he couldn’t trust at the Slytherin tables. While he didn’t know many sixth or seventh years, he was fairly certain he could trust those that had been on the Quidditch team with him. Jane Sparrow and Adrien Pucey, at the very least, should be good allies. 

Harry finally found a spot to sit, towards the end of the table where first years would sit after being sorted. He was a bit surprised, though, when Blaise suddenly appeared across from him, slipping into his new seat. 

“Harry,” the other fifth year said, a sly grin. 

“Whatever you’re scheming,” Harry warned, “I want no part.” 

“Not scheming.” Dramatic as ever, Blaise raised one hand, holding it over his heart as he stared at Harry with a fake gobsmacked look. “I just wanted to know how your summer was.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. Turning, he instead studied the staff table. His eyes raked over each teacher, taking note of any and every change. Towards one end, he recognized Sprout and Flitwick, with Snape seated next. Then came Freya and Maria, seated between Snape and an empty chair, McGonagall’s usual spot on Dumbledore's right. Then there was Dumbledore himself, followed by Sinistra, a few other elective teachers, and finally Filch. 

But just beyond Filch, where another chair had been added, sat a woman Harry thought looked… oddly familiar. She was dressed head to toe in similar shades if pink, with a set of brown curls framing her face. As horrible as it was, Harry thought she looked a bit like a toad. 

“Blaise,” he said, low so others nearby couldn’t hear him as well. “That woman, at the end. Who is she?” 

Following his gaze, Blaise winced. “Ah. Yeah, that’s Dolores Umbridge. She’s an Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic. She’s probably here to inspect the school. My Mum and the Board of Governors approved the inspection, since Dumbledore had been making… questionable decisions lately.” 

Before Harry could question further, the doors to the Entrance Hall opened. McGonagall led a line of wide eyed first years down the center of the room, between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Harry stood in his seat a bit, trying to look beyond everyone to get a better view, and managed to catch sight of Marrissa doing the same. They both caught sight of Jenna, meek and small, walking toward the back. His niece gave a small wave, before she was absorbed into the halting crowd and Harry lost sight of her. 

The hall faded to near silence, as McGonagall went to fetch the Sorting Hat and its stool. He watched as McGonagall unrolled her list, starting with the first name. Harry kept his eyes open, watching as Euan Abercrombie went to Gryffindor, and Blake Grimes went to Slytherin. The crowd of first years slowly thinned, Harry clapping politely as each went to their new house. Finally, his little niece was called forward, the Sorting had placed on her curls. 

“Ravenclaw!” the hat called, and Harry clapped as Jenna hurriedly hopped down to join Marrissa at the blue and bronze table. 

Eventually, the sorting ended with a Rose Zeller, who was sorted into Hufflepuff, and McGonagall removed the hat and stool. As she moved to take her seat, Dumbledore stood, clearing his throat before speaking. 

“To our newcomers,” Dumbledore said into the waiting silence, arms spread wide and a wide smile splitting his face. “Welcome! To our old friends, welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but now is not it. Tuck in!” 

There was a round of grateful laughter, as well as applause, as Dumbledore sat back in his chair once more. Food appeared on the platters around them, and Harry was more then eager to serve himself up. He noticed one of the first years next to him, Noah Green, staring down at the heaps of food. Harry, knowing that look of awe and shock, gave the new Slytherin a little nudge. 

“New to magic?” Harry asked, giving the kid a little smile. 

Noah blushed, cheeks going pink as he did his best to look confident. “N-No.” At Harry’s raised brow, he shrank, fiddling with his fork. “How did you know?...” 

Humming, Harry leaned over his plate, acting as casual as he could, as he got himself a serving of steak and kidney pie. “I remember when I first learned about magic. Quite the shock, learning you’re a wizard.” 

“You’re a muggleborn to?” The words came out in an almost conspiratorial whisper, as if he didn’t want to say them aloud. 

“Well, no. But I lived with my Muggle relatives until I was nine.” 

“Oh…” 

Harry rose a brow, glancing down at the kid again. He looked so… small and concerned. Perhaps he was worried he wouldn’t fit in, in the house packed nearly full of Purebloods. Hoping to reassure the kid, Harry nudged him again. 

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t worry. You’ll do great. One of the brightest witches of the age is a muggleborn, and if you need any help, I’d be more then happy to give it.” 

A small smile querked in the corner of Noah’s mouth. “Thanks…” 

“Making friends with first years?” Blaise teased across the table, reaching his arm out to poke at Harry with his fork. “Really, Harry, you’ve got enough on your plate!” 

“I can help first years if I want,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll make time if I have to.” 

Blaise chuckled, turning to look at Noah. “Harry is a good person to go to for defense related questions, but he’s passable for any other subject, and can point you to someone who can do better if needed. Just ask anyone for the Slytherin Alistair and they should be able to point you to him.” 

Noah gave a little nod, looking a bit nervous as he ate. 

Harry just dug into his dinner, eating his fill, and then more than his fair share of treacle tart. He answered any questions that Noah had, and when the other first years noticed Harry talking with him, they joined in the talk as well. By the time dinner was finished, and the hall was filled with the sound of chatter, Harry was fairly certain that most of the first years wouldn’t hesitate to come to him for help. 

“Well,” a voice called from the staff table, making the room fall silent once more. “Now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start of term notices. First years ought to know that the forest on the grounds is out of bounds to students...” 

Harry yawned. With his belly full, he found that he was feeling pleasantly tired. He listened with only half his attention, taking in the general gist of Dumbledore’s speech. A reminder to not use magic in the halls between classes, and to check Filches ever growing list of banned things that was now attached to the caretakers office door. Maria was introduced as the Defense teacher, and Freya would be their temporary Care of Magical Creatures instructor. 

As the headmaster transitioned to the date of Quidditch tryouts, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat. It was one of the fakest things Harry had ever heard, a sharp ‘hem, hem,’ that caused Dumbledore to pause. 

Everyone turned, watching as Umbridge stood from her seat in the corner, and walked forward toward the front of the table. Even Dumbledore looked surprised. Sill, the headmaster sat back down, gesturing her forward, as though he wanted nothing more than to hear her speak. The other professors didn’t look nearly as please, with only Maria and Freya keeping their faces carefully neutral. 

“Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words.” Umbridge sniped, smiling as though she meant the opposite. She gave another face cough, before she continued. “It’s lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say, and to be welcomed by so many happy little faces smiling back at me.”

As far as Harry could tell, no one was smiling, much less looked happy. Many at the Slytherin table seemed to actually be scowling. It seemed most didn’t like being spoken to as if they were toddlers. 

“My name is Dolores Umbridge,” she continued. “Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. And I’m sure that during my time here, we will all be very good friends. As for why I am here… 

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

She had the gaul to turn to the staff table at that, giving a tiny bow. It looked like it was meant to be a display of respect, but came off almost mocking. Sprout shared a glance with McGonagall, and Harry could see Snape openly sneering at the woman. Umbridge gave the disapproving looks no mind, and simply gave another ‘hem, hem,’ before continuing. 

“Each headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the heavy burden of leading this historic school. And that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation.

“Because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

At that, she stopped, looking expectantly around, before returning to her seat. Dumbledore politely clapped, with most of the professors following his lead. Very few students joined in, most either taken aback by the speech or simply hadn’t been listening. It didn’t matter, though, as Dumbledore stood before to many could start applauding. 

“Thank you, Miss Umbridge,” Dumbledore said. “As she said, she is here to inspect the school’s happenings, to make sure we are up to snuff. Please remember that she is our guest until her inquiry is over, and treat her with respect. Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held on the sixteenth and seventeenth of this month. Captains, make sure you have a list of your needed positions posted on your House bulletin board.” 

Harry thought about that. If the Quidditch house cup had been held last year, he would have only needed a single beater, to replace Jack Williams, but Lucian Bole had also graduated. So, if he was lucky and everyone else was still willing to play, he only needed two Beaters. But what were the chances that he’d find two beaters willing to listen to him when many of them were wary to be around him? 

There was a clattering around him, and Harry was pulled from his thoughts to find everyone clearing out of the Great Hall. Harry moved to follow, giving Noah a bit of a nod as Draco and Pansy led the first years away. He thought about going with them, since he wasn’t sure what the new password was, but hesitated. After all, Cedric had wanted to talk with him, and he had to check on Sila. And maybe speak to Freya...

Sighing, Harry moved to join the first years, following Draco and Pansy. The two Prefects glanced back at him, but didn’t say anything directly to him. They just led the way for the First years as Draco started a speech. 

“You have all been welcomed in the great and exalted house of Slytherin,” Draco drawled, head held high as he walked. “As I’m sure you’ve surmised, our house emblem is the serpent, and our colors are a rich emerald green with silver accenting. Our common room and dorms, where we’re heading now, are in the dungeons, as well as the office of our Head of House, Potions Professor Snape.” 

As they got half way down the hall that led to the Slytherin Commonroom, Pansy stopped them, gesturing to their right. “This is Professor Snape’s office. His open hours are 4pm to 7pm on weekdays, and 11am to 7pm on weekends. He’s also open after dinner, but only for pre-scheduled meetings. Generally, his office isn’t open on holidays, but if you’re in desperate need of assistance, know that he will be more than willing to help you.” 

“The entrance to our common room is here,” Draco continued when they moved further down the hall. “Our current password is ‘Merlin’.” 

With the password spoken, the wall opened, and they moved inside. Harry decided to not listen to the rest of the introduction speech, heading down the hall to the fifth year boys dorm. He could faintly hear Draco’s voice carry down the corridor as he explained some of the other policies in the Slytherin Commonroom, such as the fortnightly password change and the ban bringing students from other houses inside. 

Heading to his trunk, Harry flipped it open to carefully pull out the basket that sat at the top. Inside, he could hear the sounds of his snakes wiggling and coiling around one another, each giving low hisses of excitement or annoyance. They quieted as Harry opened the basket and turned to peer up at him. 

“ _ Sorry, _ ” Harry hissed at them. “ _ I meant to check on you while we were on the train. _ ” 

They gave their own responses, a mix of understanding and annoyed acceptance. 

“ _ I’ll take you down to meet Sila, _ ” he promised, moving back to his trunk to dig around. “ _ You’ll just have to spend a little more time in the basket, okay? _ ” 

“ _ Take your time, _ ” Honavi hissed, as Gift grumpily snapped, “ _ Hurry. _ ” 

This set off another round of arguing. Harry pointedly ignored them, pulling out his invisibility cloak, and wrapping it around the basket. He gave a quick warning to be quiet, waiting until he couldn’t hear them before grabbing the invisible basket, keeping his hand open just enough that it passed as casual.

“Curfew is precisely at ten,” Draco was saying as Harry walked out. “Professor Snape, however, encourages everyone to be back in the dorm at least ten minutes before. As I’m sure Alistair is well aware.” 

The first years all turned, big eyes locking onto him, as he chuckled. 

“I know,” Harry said, carefully working his way to the door. “I’m just… going to go see my sister. I’m sure she’s just down at Hagrid’s, so I’ll be back before curfew. Don’t worry.” 

As Harry reached the door, he heard Pansy snort. “Yes, don’t worry, he says. As though every year he doesn’t end up nearly dying. It’s almost like he’s an idiotic Gryffindor.” 

“It’s my clever snake side that keeps me from actually dying,” Harry called, as if his near death experiences were something he could laugh off now that they had passed. “The ‘idiotic Gryffindor’ part just keeps me from panicking.” 

Turning, Harry finally made it out of the door, heading for the Entrance Hall once more. It was empty of students, as most were off in their dorms, getting settled. Still, there were a few teachers milling about. Harry carefully made his way over to McGonagall, who was closest to him. 

She paused in her conversation with a seventh year Ravenclaw that Harry didn’t know, turning toward him even as the Ravenclaw scowled. “Yes, Mr. Alistair?” 

“Sorry,” he said, smiling apologetically. “I was wondering if you knew where Freya went?” 

McGonagall pursed her lips. She looked almost displeased, and no one could withstand a displeased McGonagall. Hell, even Harry began to wonder if he had done something wrong. 

“Your sister,” McGonagall declared, sounding very disapproving, “has gone outside to be with that dragon she calls a ‘son’. If you plan on going out to see her, please remind her that it should be tucked away from where students could find it.” 

“Of course, Professor,” Harry said, heading for the Entrance Hall door. 

He made his way down the path to Hagrid’s hut, eyes adjusting to the dark as he could just make out the curve of Ba’ul, the Horntail’s body curving around the small hut. Realistically, the Wyvern shouldn’t be allowed on school grounds, and if it was any other dragon, Harry would think Dumbledore was crazy. But this was Ba’ul, not necessarily trained, but domesticated enough. Besides, Freya would never let anything bad happen to the dragon, which meant she’d never let Ba’ul do anything that would get him in trouble. 

When he reached the hut, Ba’ul lifted his head for a moment, letting out a puff of smoke from his nostrils. Harry smiled, reaching up to press the palm of his free hand to the Wyvern’s snout. The sharp scales were smooth to the touch, with just the slightest bit of roughness to them. He had to carefully pull his hand away, so as not to cut himself on the edges, before heading to the open door of the hut. 

Sure enough, Freya was inside, sat back at the table. She had her feet up on a chair, already muddy boots dropped by the door, as she looked over a letter. Across the small hut, he could just barely see a kettle hanging over the fire. 

“Freya,” Harry called, smiling as he stepped inside. 

Instantly, his sister looked up, eyes wide with surprise for a fraction of a second. But her gaze settled on him, surprise smoothing over into a cheeky grin. 

“Harrison!” she said, dropping her letter and standing up to move toward him. “I didn’t expect you to come down and see me.” 

Now, Freya was normally loud and confident, but she seemed… off. As though she was over compensating, like she was putting on a show for someone. He wondered if, maybe, someone was watching her, if someone was watching both of them. But if they were being followed, monitored, then there was no way that Freya could tell him… 

“I was surprised to find out you were here. I thought you and Kale were going to Romania.” 

She gave a slight shrug, moving to check on the kettle. It was starting to steam, not quite whistling, but she seemed to find it acceptable. Pulling it off, she grabbed a set of three tea cups to set out on the table. 

“I got a letter from Dumbledore while I was packing this afternoon,” she admitted, pouring a bit of tea into each cup. “Apparently, Hagrid went on a trip and got delayed. So the Headmaster asked me to come in as a temporary replacement until Hagrid can get back.” 

Harry nodded, thinking that over as he picked up his teacup. So Hagrid was probably on a mission for the Order and got delayed on his return. That meant that Freya could be at Hogwarts anywhere from a few days, to a few months. Hell, Hagrid could be gone until the end of the year. And, honestly, it was probably better that Hagrid was gone while the Ministry woman, Umbridge, was here for her ‘inspection’. 

Absently sipping his tea, he glanced out the window. He could spot someone coming down the grounds, the bright pink of their clothes standing out in the darkness, like some kind of warning. For a moment, he wasn’t sure who it was, or why someone would wear that much pink. That is, until he remembered who was at Hogwarts. 

“Bloody hell,” Harry hissed, fumbling with his cup. “Umbridge is coming down the hill.” 

That got Freya’s attention. Getting up, she moved to the door, glancing up at Ba’ul before following the dragon’s gaze to the woman strolling down. 

“Madam Inquisitor,” she called with a professional pleasantry. “I just took the kettle off.” Turning back into the hut, she glanced at Harry, keeping her voice low. “Is there anything on you that you don’t want her to know about?” 

“Er…” Harry looked down at his hand, where the weight of the basket of vipers was the only thing reminding him it was there. “My invisibility cloak, actually?” 

Freya took a deep breath, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Harrison. Why on earth would you…?” With a heavy sigh, she shook her head, going to take Harry’s cup and quickly put it in Hagrid’s makeshift sink. “Alright. Put it on. Quickly, so you can get out of here before she gets down here.” 

Harry moved as quickly as he could, unwrapping the basket so he could throw the cloak on himself. He kept the basket close to his body, knowing that there was enough room for it, but not wanting to risk his feet showing. Before Umbridge reached the door, he slipped out, able to make his way back towards the castle. Behind him, there was the sound of the pink clad woman sputtering. 

“Alistair,” Umbridge greeted, though there was an underlying tone of confusion. 

“Professor Alistair,” Freya politely corrected. “I assume you’re here to schedule an inspection. Tea?” 

He couldn’t help but snort, shaking his head. It was then that Harry realized that it would probably be best to enter the Chamber from the boat house. With Umbridge walking around, he would need to close it, a precaution so she didn’t stumble onto it in her overly thorough search of the castle. He carefully pulled up the hidden hatch open, dropping down into the darkness of the tunnel. The Chamber entrance loomed before him, almost as dark as Harry’s surroundings, saved for the single bulb that hung at the end, a signal to light the way. 

Stepping into the Chamber, Harry hissed a soft  _ ‘Close’ _ behind him, continuing down the hall as stone ground and slid into place. He hadn’t actually come in this way since he brought Draco in third year. It was usually easier to enter from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. After all, Filch hadn’t been able to scrub the message from the wall outside, making the already unpopular bathroom even less pleasant. 

Sila was already waiting for him when he reached the main Chamber. She slid off her nest of pillows, tongue flicking back and forth as Harry pulled his cloak off. 

“ _ Little Speaker, _ ” Sila cooed. “ _ You have returned for the year. _ ” 

“ _ Yes, _ ” Harry yawned, raising a hand to try and cover his mouth before remembering that she couldn’t see. “ _ I came to check on you. Hagrid wasn’t at the feast. _ ”

Sila tilted her head, as if she hadn’t noticed the man that brought her food in the summer hadn’t been around. “ _ The large one left not long ago. I assume he left on a mission for his master. But you have brought someone new with you. _ ” 

Harry hummed, moving to sit down in Sila’s bed, setting the basket down. “ _ Good to know you’re doing alright. I have some vipers from home. Thought you’d want to meet them. _ ”

Reaching down, Harry flicked open the lid, the vipers sliding out and scattering around the room to explore. Sila observed, head tilting as she listened to them moving through the Chamber. Honavi and Nikoa seemed most interested in Sila, the two snakes sliding up and along her scales, growing accustomed to her. 

“ _ You are quite large, _ ” Nikoa noted, sliding up to Sila’s head. “ _ How do you make your way around here? _ ” 

“ _ You are smaller then Speaker Harry, _ ” Sila countered. “ _ How do you get anywhere? _ ” 

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to take offense to Nikoa, or be bothered by the way Honavi was still squirming around her. Harry was too tired to care about anything, other than the Basilisk getting along with the vipers. He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand, as he relaxed into the nest of blankets and pillows. It was almost too comfortable to pass up the chance to doze off. 

It wasn’t until the next morning, did Harry realize that he’d fallen asleep in the nest. He woke like he had most mornings: surrounded by snake scales. With a yawn, he sat up, looking around to catch his barings. He wondered if, maybe, he should have forced himself to go back to the common room, faced with the task of climbing over the basilisk to head for the tunnel that led towards the dungeons and Slytherin common room. 

He barely noticed Honavi around his neck, absently running a hand through his mussed hair as she tried to burrow into his robes. For a moment, he wondered what time it was, before deciding it didn’t matter. After all, it was a Saturday, and he was allowed to wear jeans instead of dress robes. 

With a sleepy hiss at the exit, Harry hopped out from behind the tapestry that hid it from sight when open, and hissing back another order for it to close. He glanced around, spotting no one around, before walking up towards the common room entrance. With a frown, he tried to remember the password before yawning out ‘Merlin’. 

Stepping in, Harry found the sitting area of the common room mostly empty. There were a few seventh years already up, but they were busy at work with books and quills, either finishing summer homework or preparing for their NEWT classes on Monday. None of them paid Harry much attention, save for a glance as he passed. He supposed that was a step up from the end of the last year, when the other students openly avoided him and made a point of not looking at him. 

He reached the fifth year boys room to find most of the others still asleep. Harry carefully stepped in, going to his trunk to grab a set of new clothes. Honavi slid down his shoulder, landing at the foot of his bed with a soft thump as she dozed. She remained there as he went to shower, hoping the rush of hot water would help him wake up. 

After a long shower, and an equally long and failed attempt to get his messy hair under control, Harry stepped out into the dormitory. The other fifth years were in mixed states of waking. Greg and Vince were face down in their respective beds, still snoring and drooling as they likely dreamed of cauldron cakes and cockroach clusters. Theo was absently rubbing at his eyes, looking half asleep as he was shifting to sit up in his bed. Blaise and Draco were both up, muttering quietly to each other as they got clothes from their trunks, Draco being much more careful about what he chose then Blaise. The two stopped as they spotted Harry. 

“Harrison,” Draco said, voice filled with a false indifference that barely hid the undertones of worry. “I see you’re finally back. I thought you were just off to see your sister.” 

With a shrug, Harry moved to his bed to pick up Honavi, letting her coil up and around his shoulders. “I remembered something I had to check on my way back. Since Hagrid isn’t here to do something for me.” He shot Draco a pointed look, knowing the blond would understand. “And I sort of fell asleep when I got down there.” 

He belatedly remembered that he had left his cloak down there. It worried him, leaving such a valuable item down there, and his only connection to his birth father other than his looks. Still, there was no safer place for Harry to store the heirloom. Harry was currently the only one who could get inside, after all. 

“You need to be more careful,” Draco insisted. “If it hadn’t been for Snape, you’d likely be serving detention right now.” 

Harry rolled his eyes, shooting Blaise a look. He expected the other boy to agree with him, tell Draco that he was being ridiculous, but Blaise didn’t. In fact, Blaise had crossed his arms, nodding in agreement as he looked completive. 

“Draco’s right,” he said. “Umbridge tried to get into the common room. Snape was here, giving a quick speech to the first years, so he was able to stop her from getting inside. She tried to say something about an inspection, and making sure that a student she saw out on the grounds was back by curfew. Wonder who she was talking about, hm?” 

“You’re lucky that we were able to convince her that you had gotten back and had gone to bed. Merlin, Harison, she’s  _ looking _ for a reason to stay longer then she has to. For a reason to get you expelled.” 

They had a point. Umbridge was only supposed to be here for two weeks, to complete her inspection of the school. But they knew that if she could find anything, anything at all, that she could give the school board to convince them that she needed to stay longer, she’d be here for the rest of the year. 

And there were already plenty of things she could use. The fact that Dumbledore had hired Maria for a position that he had trouble filling, knowing she’d have to leave by January for maternity leave wasn’t a good start. Then there was Freya, and Dumbledore apparently agreed to let Ba’ul onto the castle grounds without anything to keep him from attacking anyone, though the Horntail would never hurt anyone without reason. And Dumbledore would surely do something else that would do something that just added fuel to the fire. 

“You’re right,” Harry said, thinking for a moment. “I suppose I’ll have to be more careful when I go in and out of the Chamber, huh?” 

Blaise openly gaped, causing Harry to pause. “I’m sorry, the  _ what _ ?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, I'm gonna start reworking older parts tags to be more... specific. If anyone has any recommendations for certain ones, please put them bellow.


	8. Confessions and Chats

Blaise’s shout had gotten other other boys' attention, bringing them out of their various states of sleep. Harry then had to take a fair amount of time to explain, in greater detail, what really happened at the end of second year. 

As far as anyone in the school knew, the mysterious ‘Heir of Slytherin’ had, in an attempt to cause the closure of the school, taken an unnamed student into the Chamber of Secrets. Lockhart went to stop the monster, followed by Harry and Ron. Then, the monster had been defeated and the student saved by Harry. Somewhere along the way, Lockhart had lost his memory and the secret to his success was revealed, as well as that a servant of Voldemort had caused the awakening of the beast. 

It wasn’t much, in terms of reality. It was mostly true, save for the part about the monster being ‘defeated’ and it being a servant that caused the monster’s awakening. So, Harry told them the truth. 

“After Hermione and Skyla had been petrified,” Harry explained, “I had spent all my time trying to figure out who the Heir of Slytherin was. I figured out that Moaning Myrtle, that ghost in the bathroom on the second floor, was the victim who died fifty years ago. So, I arranged to meet Ron in the library to talk, when I collapsed. I ended up going to the hospital wing, and we found out that Hermione had discovered that the monster was a Basilisk and it was getting around through the pipes. 

“When there was a call for students to go back to their dorms, Ron and I snuck out to listen to the professors. They had found the second message, and that…” Harry glanced at Draco, who gave a slight nod. “That Draco had been taken into the Chamber.” 

Instantly, their dormmates turned to stare at Draco, who kept his lips pressed into a thin line. They didn’t actually speak, so Harry continued. 

“We heard that Lockhart was going to go after Draco, so Ron and I went to tell the fraud what we knew. Only to find him about to flee. We forced him to come with us to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, when I discovered and opened the Chamber of Secrets with parseltongue. Lockhart tried to use Ron’s broken wand to Obliviate us, but it backfired and caused a collapse in the tunnel. Obliviated Lockhart and Ron on one side, and myself on the other. 

“I kept going, while Ron tried to move the rubble. I found the actual Chamber of Secrets, with… With Draco unconscious on the ground.” His stomach churned, and Harry felt his blood run cold at the memory, having to glance at Draco just to ground himself and remind himself that his friend was fine. “He was… He was so cold, and he looked  _ dead _ . But not yet. He was… dying.

“It was then that he arrived. Voldemort.” The other Slytherin’s jumped, each looking sick. “It wasn’t… really him. Just a memory of him as a student, when he was Tom Riddle, trapped in a diary that was draining the life out of Draco so he could come back. He told me everything. How Draco’s father had put his diary in Ginny’s cauldron during a run in with the Weasley’s. He had used Ginny, possessed her, to make her open the Chamber and petrify Mrs. Noris, Creevy, and Finch-Fletchley and to kill Hagrid’s roosters. That is, until she realized that something was wrong, and threw away the diary in Myrtle’s bathroom. 

“That’s where I found it. I found out it would write back when it was written in, and I used it to ask questions, help discover new information. Until Draco discovered it, recognizing it as something from his father’s study, and took it from me to destroy it, but it was too late. He was possessed and controlled by Riddle’s diary, and he opened the Chamber again. And when Draco refused to give the diary back to me, Voldemort took Draco down into the Chamber to use as a sacrifice. 

“After a bit of… I suppose you could call it banter, Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes, came to me. It was then that he had enough and called the basilisk. He ordered her to kill me, but Fawkes came to peck out her eyes.” Harry winced at that. “I was safe from petrification, but she followed me by smell through tunnels. Eventually I used a slingshot to knock out one of her teeth, then put her to sleep with a bottle of Dreamless Sleep I’d gotten from the hospital wing.

“With the Basilisk unconscious, Riddle was almost ready to face me on his own. It was then that Fawkes brought me the diary. I used the basilisk fang to stab the diary, thinking it would kill the memory, and it worked. The memory of Tom Riddle was destroyed, as was the diary, and Draco came to.” 

As Harry finished, he looked around at his friends, wondering what they’d say. They all looked somewhat sick, save for Draco. No, the blond was sitting carefully stil, watching their friends as they seemed to attempt to wrap their minds around this new information. Harry was almost concerned that they wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. 

“So the Basilisk,” Theo said, perhaps a bit too slow. “It’s still… down there?...” 

Harry blinked. “Er… Yeah.” 

“Alive?...” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then why haven’t more students been petrified?” 

Draco snorted. “This is Harrison we’re talking about. He’s made it his new  _ pet _ .” 

Theo and Blaise whipped around to stare at Harry, who chuckled. 

“Less of a pet,” he confessed. “More of… a big fuck all snake that think’s I’m ‘small little speaker’ that she needs to protect. Oh, and thinks Draco is pretty.” 

The other Slytherin’s all looked confused. Almost like they were Vince and Greg, trying to understand Arithmancy. Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Do you… want to meet her?” 

Before Theo and Blaise could speak, Draco added in: “She’s… actually rather sweet. For a… ‘big fuck all snake’ as Harry puts it. And the Chamber itself is quite fascinating. Hagrid has put in a few things, and Harrison has been mapping the tunnels.” 

“Maybe later,” Blaise suggested. “For now… Why not just go to breakfast?” 

XxXXxX

Though Harry had woken up rather early, he was probably one of the last to enter the Great Hall for breakfast. Which, honestly, was probably a good thing. As he made his way down the table, he was able to stop in on the different Quidditch team members, checking on them. 

He checked with Adrian Pucey first. The Chaser was a seventh year, and was working on something in a notebook. The older boy seemed a bit surprised when Harry spoke up, and he turned to listen closely. When Harry asked if Adrian would like to continue on the team, he eagerly agreed, if Harry wouldn’t mind setting up a meeting between him and the Weasley twins. Harry wasn’t sure why Pucey would want to talk to Fred and George, but he agreed. 

Next was Graham Montague. The large boy wasn’t quite as busy, though he was worried about his NEWT level classes. He explained that he’d play, as long as his grades didn’t start to slip. It meant that if Graham got too overworked, Harry would need to find a replacement Chaser, but he would probably choose a few back up players anyway. 

The last was Jane Sparrow. She was an excellent Keeper, and Harry would be sad to see her go, but he knew that she’d need the time. She’d been made Head Girl, and was probably taking the most NEWT classes out of all the seventh year Slytherin’s. And, sure enough, she had to quit. It would be, as she put it, too much. 

So Harry knew, now, that he needed two Beaters and a Keeper. Plus a backup Chaser or two. He sighed, moving to slide into the bench by Draco. He was tired already, after everything that happened. There was still so much to do, and he wasn’t sure how well he’d deal with Quidditch, his OWL preparations, and of course looking for allies in Hogwarts. 

“Harrison?” 

“Hm?” Harry looked up, finding Draco looking down at his plate. “Yeah? What is it?” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice soft as he pushed his eggs around his plate, something Draco didn’t usually do. “About… About second year. If I had found a way to destroy the diary, you wouldn’t have had to see me like that. And last year. During the Tournament. I’m sorry for putting you through that again.” 

For a moment, Harry wondered what the hell Draco was talking about. Eventually he realized Draco was apologizing for being possessed in second year, and then being kidnapped in fourth. It was so absurd, Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice, shaking his head. Draco seemed rather surprised by his response, scowling at him. 

“What?” the blond demanded. “Why are you laughing?” 

“Sorry,” Harry said. “It’s just… It wasn’t your fault that you were picked for the tournament. They probably picked you because I danced with you most at the Yule Ball. And second year? Draco, it wasn’t your fault you were  _ possessed _ . Really.” 

“But I couldn’t destroy it,” Draco countered. “I tried, but nothing worked.” 

That… caught Harry’s attention. He blinked, thought, then blinked again. “What do you mean nothing worked?” 

“I mean, I set it on fire and it didn’t burn. I tried to tear out it’s pages, but it didn’t tear.” His voice was slowly lowering, face growing paler with each word. “I even tried to stab it with a knife from the kitchens, but it didn’t do anything.” 

Harry frowned. That… was strange. He’d stabbed it with the basilisk fang, and that had worked. So why had that worked, but other things hadn’t? He resolved to write his parents about it later, just to see if they had any answers. 

“No point worrying about it right now,” Harry mused, taking a bite of toast. “I mean, we have other things to worry about. Let’s just focus on the future, alright?” 

Draco, thankfully, let it drop. They spoke quiet and carefully, until Harry had to go get a copy of the tryout sheets from Snape. The dark haired professor seemed more annoyed then usual, with a near permanent tick appearing at the corner of his eye, even after they’d gotten out of the Great hall. When Harry asked, he only got an exasperated sigh and a muttering about a pink toad. 

The tryout fliers went up before lunch that morning. Harry spent most of the day working through a few of his school books, making sure he was prepared. After lunch, he decided to sneak off to transform, and wander around the grounds. Thankfully, he was able to duck into Myrtle’s bathroom before slipping back out in his fuzzy little form. Sirius had nicknamed this form ‘Spitfire’, mostly because Harry had gotten the bad habit of hissing at anyone that picked him up. 

Moving about the castle in this form was… different. It wasn’t impossible, but he found that climbing stairs was a bit more difficult, and it took more time to get anywhere he wanted to go. He ended up finding Crookshanks, who sat on the steps outside the entrance hall. 

“ _ Crookshanks, _ ” Harry mewed, grinning a little, spotting the ginger cat’s fluffy tail flicking absently behind him. 

“ _ Harry, _ ” came the strange response. Harry knew that he could communicate with animals while in this form, but when he had tried with Hedwig, it had been more like when he spoke with the dragon last year. Sirius had said it would be more specific with the animal he transformed into, but he hadn’t expected this. “ _ I was wondering when you’d come to see me. _ ” 

He absently batted at Crookshanks waving tail, his own raised high as he wiggled. “ _ Was exploring. Figuring out the best way to get around. _ ” 

“ _ I could show you, _ ” the ginger cat meowed. “ _ But it seems you’re more interested in playing. _ ” 

Harry paused, one paw raised in the air, about to swat at Crookshanks tail to try and catch it. He tried to casually sit down, much like the half-kneazle was, and curled his tail around himself to cover his front paws. 

“ _ No, _ ” he tried. “ _ Just… curious. So… Do you have any tips? _ ” 

Crookshanks made a sort of humming purr, moving to lay down with his legs tucked beneath him. “ _ Yes, actually. The new woman, the pink one. She has a room on the third floor. And she is... quite fond of cats. _ ” 

For a moment, Harry thought that over. Umbridge was a cat person? No, the way Crookshanks spoke, it was more then that. Was she obsessed with cats? If she was, that could be quite helpful. He wouldn’t need to risk his snakes to spy on her, if she found a way to stay. He could simply stroll up to her, and get access to whatever he wanted by being in his animagus form. 

“ _ Thanks, _ ” Harry mewed, before he heard Hermione coming with a flick of his ear. “ _ I’d better get out of here. Before Hermione sees me. _ ” 

Hopping down the steps, Harry padded his way across the grounds, deciding he’d find a place to lay out and relax for the afternoon. After all, it was probably better to have himself removed from the equation until Umbridge was gone. If she didn’t see him do anything, she couldn’t blame him for anything. 

XxXXxX

Harry spent his Sunday in much the way he’d spent his Saturday: laid out on one of the many short stone walls that lined walkways on the grounds. He would, of course, go back inside for his meals, but other then that, he kept himself carefully out of the way. His friends were all rather concerned with where he kept going, which he bypassed by telling the Slytherin’s he was in the Chamber, and telling Ron and Hermione that he was busy with Quidditch things. 

Come Monday, he realized that he was probably going to miss these lazy days. After all, his coursework would take up much of his time, and Quidditch would take up the rest. 

His Mondays were rather… boring. He started with a double Charms that went fairly well, simple and good start to the year. Flitwick, as always, was an outstanding teacher, who taught at a pace that fit everyone. Well, everyone but Hermione, who was probably already practicing spells in the middle of their textbook. 

After a quick lunch, Harry went to a far more… intense class. Double Potions. He joined a crowd of Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s in front of the large double doors. They creaked, loud and ominous as usual, and each of them filed in. Harry took his usual seat next to Hermione, in the back behind Neville. As he sat, that’s when he noticed Umbridge seated in the corner. 

Snape closed the doors, the room instantly going silent as he walked back to the front. 

“Before we begin,” Snape began, robes flaring out as he moved behind his desk. “I think it is pertinent to remind you all that come June, you will be taking an important exam, where you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. As idiotic as some of you may be, I expect nothing lower than an ‘Acceptable’ on your Potions OWL, or suffer my… displeasure.” 

He swept his eyes over several students, each with a reputation for their disastrous attempts at Potions in the past. Harry wasn’t surprised, and he supposed he, Hermione, and maybe even Draco would have to work double time to help anyone that fell behind. Though, it was Umbridge that surprised Harry. She remained silent, watching the classroom like a hawk, rather than interrupt the cynical professor. 

“After this year,” Snape continued, “many of you will likely prefer to cease your studies with me. Some of you, come time for career advisement with your Head of House, will find that you'll need to join my NEWT Potions class for the mere chance at success. Know that I only take the very best into my advanced class, as I expect perfection. But we have another year ahead before that time comes. For now, I advise you all to focus your efforts on maintaining the standard I keep for my OWL students.

“Today, we will be mixing a brew that often comes up on Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Drought of Peace. It is a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation.” Harry was already moving, pulling out parchment to jot down the name and use. “Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method-” With a flick of his wand, Snape made the instructions appear on his blackboard. 

Harry was instantly moving, eyes raking over ingredients, over equipment. He read each line carefully, doing his best to memorize each step as Snape finished his instructions. Around him, students were already moving, quickly fetching their ingredients. Harry, meanwhile, was sure that he had his work station prepared. 

Once the crowd had thinned, and Harry could get his things without anyone pushing, he kept his cool and moved carefully through each step. He did his best to work through each step, and even glanced at the board to double check before he moved to the next part. Perhaps the only person more confident and relaxed then him was Hermione. 

“You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post,” Harry distantly heard, drawing him out of his intense focus. He glanced up, finding Umbridge following Snape around like a persistent wart, as his professor was inspecting various cauldrons. “Is that correct?” 

“Yes,” Snape sneered, though his face was kept pointedly neutral. 

“And you were… unsuccessful?” 

Harry almost sneered himself. The way she said ‘unsuccessful’ sounded more like a joke, like Snape was less than the best potioneer Hogwarts had ever seen. Anger started to boil in his gut, as he ground his porcupine quills a bit harder then necessary. 

“Obviously,” Snape sneered again, his eyes darting to Harry. “Alistair, I would like to remind you that if you break your equipment, I do not provide spares.” 

He jerked, glancing down at his mortar. His fingers were coiled so tightly around his pestle, his knuckles had gone white. “Sorry, Professor,” he said, quickly checking the time before he moved to the next step. 

It took a great effort to block out Umbrige and her rude line of questioning. He did everything he could to make the potion just as they had been instructed. In the end, as Snape called that the potion should have a light silver vapor coming off it, his potion was… less then adequate. The vapor rising up, while shining like silver, was just off, just a bit too dark and a bit too thick. Still, it wasn’t the cement like potion of Neville’s making, or the green sparking of Vince’s. 

Snape wandered the room, looking down his nose at each pot. He gave a few criticisms, mostly to Seamus and Nevile, who’s potions were deemed ‘a miracle for not exploding’ and ‘poisonous sludge at best’ respectively. Though, when he looked down at Greg’s, Snape gave a disappointed sigh and declared it too dangerous to bottle. The only one to not get a lick of critique was Hermione, who sat tall and proud in her chair. 

With that, they were ordered to fill one flagon, save for Greg, and to bring it to Snape's desk. Harry did as he was ordered, only sparing a glance at Umbridge as the woman scribbled something down on her clipboard with a long and bright pink quill. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d pulled it right off the end of a rare bird. 

With that done, Harry said goodbye to Hermione, and went to Herbology. He found Marrissa already there, making sure they had all their things ready. She smiled when she saw him, scooting over so he could sit with her. 

“Harry,” she said, voice as kind and cheerful as always. “I haven’t seen you all weekend. Where have you been?” 

He shrugged. “You know, just out and about.” One corner of his lips quirked up, giving her a knowing look. 

She understood, instantly, that he meant he’d been out on the grounds in his animagus form. With a shake of her head, she smiled and rested her chin in one hand, peering at Sprout as she spoke softly to not interrupt. “Have you had Defense or Care for Magical Creatures yet?” 

“Not yet,” Harry confessed. “I don’t have Care until tomorrow morning, and my first Defense class isn’t until Wednesday. Why, did you?” 

“Just Care,” Marissa said, humming softly. “I would have thought Hermione would have told you. We have it together.” 

“No. Snape threw us right into brewing the Draught of Peace. It’s a bit of a hard one, with a lot of precise measurements and timing.” Pursing his lips, Harry hummed. “Not to mention, Umbridge was there, taking notes on Snape. She asked him about when he applied to teach. As the  _ Defense _ professor.” 

His niece looked at him in surprise. “Snape wanted to be the Defense teacher?” She let out her own hum of thought. “Though, I suppose it does make sense. He was the substitute when Lupin was busy with his… full moon problem, and he didn’t seem all that terrible at it. Still, I can’t see him as anything other then our gloomy and overly critical Potions professor.” With a sigh, she shook her head. “I am not going to enjoy tomorrow afternoon.” 

“It wasn’t too bad. I’m not going to get an O, but that’s mostly because I got distracted by that toad.” He smiled a bit when she snorted, even though they got a look from Professor Sprout. “Has she ‘inspected’ any of your classes yet?” 

“Mm, Ancient Runes. I barely noticed her, honestly. She didn’t bother Professor Babbling at all. She did ask a few students a few questions, though. Not surprised. After all, she’s looking for a reason to stay longer than her inspection period. Asking students questions, she could probably pull a Skeeter and twist every word.” 

Harry nodded, knowing that he would need to be extremely careful. It was why he’d spent the weekend hidden away in animagus form. Still, he should have spent his time more proactively. Crookshanks had mentioned Umbridge’s love of cats. He could have used that to sneak into her office. Or he could have gotten his snakes set up with his spy line. Or finally talked to Cedric, like the seventh year had wanted on the train. 

As their class ended, and they were dismissed for the afternoon, Harry walked with Marrissa back to the castle. He wondered if he should go find the Hufflepuff, and Marissa agreed that he probably should. Only problem was, he didn’t really know where to look for him. Perhaps Ron would have a better idea. 

When Marrissa saw Luna Lovegood sitting in the courtyard, she went off, going to join her younger house member. Harry, meanwhile, went badger hunting. 

It took Harry only a moment to find Ron. The red head was in the Entrance hall, arguing with Hermione about something or other. Harry could only sigh, starting to get a headache as he joined them. 

“-and it’s so unprofessional,” Hermione was saying, glowering at Ron. “Just because you can, doesn’t mean that you  _ should _ .” 

“It’s not like they didn’t do anything,” Ron shot back. “I took points for magic in the hallway! That’s against the rules.” 

“But you just used that as an excuse! You took the points because they said they didn’t trust-” She caught sight of him, cutting herself off. “Harry. I didn’t see you there.” 

Instantly, Ron turned to look at him, looking surprised. He didn’t seem to know what to say, but put on a grin. “Harry! Haven’t seen you all weekend, mate. Where have you been?” 

“Around,” Harry said, being just vague enough that they could make their own assumptions. He didn’t really want to admit that, even with everything, he’d spent the weekend lounging around as a cat. “Have you seen Cedric? He said he wanted to talk to me on the train, but I didn’t get the chance to see him during the weekend.” 

“Oh, he’s been rather busy,” Ron chuckled. “He’s only got three or four classes a week, but he had loads of homework already, and with his new job as Head Boy takes up a lot of time. He’s working on what positions need filling in the Common Room. Want me to get him?” 

“That would be great,” Harry said. “Are you coming with us, Hermione?” 

She shook her hear, clutching her book to her chest. “No, I want to get started on my homework. That Moonstone essay is due on Wednesday, after all, and I promised Neville I’d help him with his essay. I’ll see you later, alright?” 

Harry nodded, giving her a wave as they went their separate ways. He followed Ron down the long corridors, listening as Ron talked about his plans to try out for Keeper, since he hadn’t been able to the year before. They laughed and joked how they wouldn’t let a rivalry form between them that would tear them apart. 

When they reached the Hufflepuff common room entrance, Harry ducked into the Kitchens while Ron went to get Cedric. He sat down, asking the elves for just a cup of pumpkin juice and a plate of biscuits. Just something to snack on while he and Cedric talked. Their chat probably wouldn’t take that long, after all, if Cedric was able to wait this long. 

“Sorry, Harry,” Cedric called as he stepped through the portrait hole. “I didn’t make you wait long, did I?” 

“No,” Harry assured, pausing as the house elves brought him what he asked for. “I heard you’ve been busy. NEWT’s, Quidditch Captain, and now Head Boy? Your schedule must be insane.” 

“A bit,” he chuckled. “I’m working on joining my father in his department at the Ministry. Become a Magizooligist. Make’s learning from your sister a real treat.” With a slight grin, he sat down across from Harry at the table, reaching out to take one of the biscuits. “Though, I have to say, it was a bit of a shock to see her Horntail there this morning. A bit nerve wracking, after last year, to have it watching us during our lesson.” 

Harry smiled. “Ba’ul is a bit like Hagrid. He’s big and kind of angry looking, but as long as you don’t hurt those he thinks of as his family, he’s harmless. I’m kind of holding out hope that when Umbridge inspects Freya’s class, she’ll upset him and he’ll eat her.” 

“Wow, Harry. That’s… kind of dark.” 

For a moment, Harry thought back to second year, when he had pushed Lockhart down the pipe that would certainly lead to a basilisk, and Ron said something similar. “So I’ve been told. But if you don’t mind, what did you want to tell me?” 

Cedric hummed, frowning. “Less of a tell, and more of an update. I talked to some of the other seventh years. This year is… important, for all of us. So we want to succeed. And, thanks to the Weasley’s, we all know about Umbridge’s goal. If she starts removing professors, pushing the Ministry’s agenda, the chances of us passing our NEWT’s will be… less than favorable.” 

Harry nodded, sure that, as time passed, the fifth years would feel the same about their OWL’s. It hopefully wouldn’t take too long. Hopefully before Umbridge is here more permanently. 

“Fred and George helped?” Harry asked, curious. “I’m surprised. Ron said they’re so focused on their joke’s, they almost didn’t come back this year.” 

“It was actually Sparrow’s idea.” Seeing Harry’s brows shoot up, Cedric chuckled. “Yeah, that was Cho’s reaction too. She’s got the seventh year Slytherin’s on your side, if only for the sake of graduating. They won’t turn you over to Umbridge.” 

He couldn’t help but grin at that. It was a small step, nearly microscopic in terms of big picture, but it was a start. He was sure that if everything went well, his housemates could join him instead of Voldemort. 

“That’s good to know,” Harry said, finishing his goblet of pumpkin juice. “If that’s everything, I’ve got another stop to make today. Something I’ve been putting off all weekend. Is it alright if I go?” 

At Cedric’s nod, Harry offered his hand, and gave Cedric’s a quick shake when he returned the gesture. Heading back out the portrait hole, Harry was off once again, towards the Entrance Hall. He was lucky to find Fred and George there. They were trying to sell something, small chocolates wrapped in parchment. They had a small group of first years of all houses around them, as they talked in hush tones, trying to sell their product. 

When they spotted Harry, they both grinned, each one going to a different side of him to throw an arm around his shoulders. 

“Harry,” they said together, each grinning. 

“Interested in anything?” 

“A Canary Cream?” 

“An Extendable Ear?” 

“No,” Harry said, shaking them off. “Not here for that kind of business. Adrien Pucey sent me. He wants to talk to you, and asked me to set up the meeting. Interested?” 

The two Weasley’s shared a look, both seemingly intrigued. 

“Alright,” Fred said. “We’ll meet him up in the Owlery.” 

“Seven o’clock. During dinner, tonight.” 

Harry raised a brow, but didn’t question it. “Alright. I’ll pass it along.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Things have gotten hectic... Again.


	9. The Inspections Begin

After a quick chat with Pucey, Harry was left to get started on his Potions essay on Moonstones. He worked on his bed, glancing up to watch as Honavi slipped around the room, exploring every nook and cranny. And, until dinner, that’s how he spent his afternoon. 

He joined Blaise at dinner, with Noah and the other first years gathered around them. They all seemed to need help with something or other, asking Harry questions for every class they had that day. It was a bit concerning, as he couldn't remember his first year being that difficult. Not on the first day at least. 

“Wow,” Blaise laughed after dinner, as they walked down the hall, the gaggle of first years a bit behind them. “It’s only the first day of classes, and you already have an army. Well, your family is practically one already, so I guess this is more like a second troop.” 

Harry frowned, not sure what his friend was talking about, much less why he would say it in the hallway where anyone could hear. If Umbridge was trying to pin something on him, the last thing he needed was a joke about having an army. The Ministry was on pins and needles, trying to find anything to discredit him, and they wouldn’t hesitate to take his family down with him. They wouldn’t care if his father was on the Wizengamot, if his sister was probably the only witch capable of diffusing tensions with centaurs, or if Emit and Neva had enough of a reputation of years of honest journalism to tear the Ministry a new one from a different publisher. In fact, the Ministry likely saw that as all the more reason to break them down. 

“You shouldn’t use ‘army’ to describe my family,” Harry said instead, keeping his voice low. “The Ministry wouldn’t like that.” 

Blaise only groaned as they reached their common room. “Everyone’s kissing the Ministry’s ass, because Fudge has them convinced we’ll all die if the Dark Lord is back. I don’t see why he couldn’t, at least, investigate just to be sure. Rather than simply saying it can’t be true. Does the man not have a brain?” 

“Unlikely,” Draco drawled from one of the plush armchairs. “If he did, he’d recognize his imminent impeachment for when his cover up comes to light. If he had investigated, rather then let Skeeter and the others at the Daily Prophet flip the story for him, he’d still have a chance at keeping his spot in office. Now, when the inevitable happens, the public will turn on him and go to the Alistairs and our Boy Who Lived for help. Who knows, maybe Harrison can become Minister before he graduates.” 

“No thanks,” Harry sighed. “I just want to be able to pass my OWLs without worrying about dying this year. Though, I suppose that’s too much to ask, considering my track record.” 

“Yes, you’re currently four for four on someone trying to kill you.” 

Frowning, Harry sat on the couch across from Draco’s chair, pulling out his potions essay. “Four for four? No, it’s only been three. Quirrell in first, Lockhart in second, and Barty Crouch Jr. last year.” 

The gathering group went quiet, and Harry looked up to find several odd stares being shot his way. 

“What?” 

“Harrison,” Draco said, voice thick with worry and somewhat drawn out, as though the blond was speaking to a five year old. “Are you forgetting about Sirius Black? Third year, he broke into the castle and nearly stabbed you and Weasley in your sleep.” 

“No,” Harry said, before he could stop himself. “Sirius was just trying to help.” 

Draco and Blaise shared a look, one of deep concern. Harry belatedly realized his slip, wincing as he tried to think of a way to explain that didn’t sound as crazy as the truth. 

“Sirius wasn’t the Secret Keeper for the Potters,” he started with. “Remember last year, when I mentioned Peter Pettigrew? Well, he was. See, James, Sirius, and Pettigrew were all unregistered Animagi, and Pettigrew escaped Sirius by turning into a rat. That rat was then found by the Weasley’s who named him Scabbers. When Ron was in the paper that summer, with Scabbers on his shoulder, Sirius broke out of Azkaban to kill him before he could betray me or my family again.” 

“Harrison,” Draco said again. “I mean no offense when I say… That is bloody insane. Black tried to attack you with a knife.” 

Deciding to just fully come clean, Harry sighed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his hands. “Sirius… is my Godfather. And he’s on our side.” 

He waited, eyes raking over his two friends to gauge their reactions. Blaise looked like he was going to laugh, like Harry had just made a joke that hadn’t quite landed. Draco, on the other hand, had his face scrunched in worry. His brow knit together so tightly it looked painful, lips pressed into a thin line, as his arms crossed his chest. 

Before Harry could continue, Draco stood, lips still pressed tight. “Alistair,” he said, making Harry wince. He was only Alistair when Draco was mad at him… “If you insist on doing idiotic things, then I’m off to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Harry watched him go, not really sure what he’d done this time. A glance around showed the Slytherin’s who had heard him staring with mixed looks of pity and concern. He wasn’t sure what he’d said to earn such looks, but he decided that wasn’t exactly important right now. There were more important things to worry about right now. He had an essay to finish, and he wanted to read the first chapter for his History of Magic class, so he doesn’t have to worry about falling asleep from Binns' dull lectures. Not to mention the horde of first years that needed help.

By the time ten o’clock arrived, Harry was finished with everything, and was carefully shooing the younger students to their dorms. Noah was the last to go, having held onto the sleeve of Harry’s robes all the way to the dormitory hallway. He wasn’t sure why Noah was so attached to him, but the kid was rather cute. 

With the first years in bed, Harry moved to his own dorm, finding his dormmates as he did every night. Blaise was laid out in his bed, drowsy and near asleep, while Greg and Vince were already snoring with candy wrappers slowly slipping from his fingers. Theo’s silhouette was visible through the curtains around his bed, wand held slightly aloft as a lumos lit the pages of a book. The only difference was Draco, who had his curtains drawn tightly shut, creating a void in the room with nothing beyond the emerald drapes. 

With a sigh, Harry went to his own bed, drawing his own curtains shut as he laid down. 

XxXXxX

The next morning, Harry woke to a nearly empty dorm room. Emphasis on nearly. 

“Merlin’s balls!” Harry shrieks, jerking up to fast he hits his head on one of the bed posts before tumbling over the side. “Greg, what the hell?!” 

Getting up from where he had been sitting next to Harry’s bed, Greg came around to help Harry up. Or rather, he grabbed Harry from behind, under his arms, and bodily lifted him to his feet. He dusted off Harry’s shoulders, looking rather pleased with himself. 

“I’m supposed to watch you,” Greg said, as a way of explaining. 

Harry floundered, not sure what to say, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Greg, that doesn’t explain why you were sitting next to my bed. Staring at me. While I was _sleeping_.” 

“Draco said-” 

Instantly, Harry groaned. Draco had sicced Greg on him as a guard dog. Now the blond's strange behavior the night before made sense. The confession about Sirius had Draco convinced that Harry couldn’t be trusted to protect himself, and needed someone there to vet people that Harry interacted with. 

He knew that there was no way to shake Greg once he had his marching orders. The large boy was loyal to Draco, and thus to Harry, and if Draco said that Harry needed watching, then Greg wasn’t going anywhere. As annoying as it was, Harry would have to deal with it. After all the time he’d spent with Draco in the last years, he often forgot that Greg and Vince were right behind them, so he supposed he would soon forget about his new shadow. 

With a heavy sigh, Harry went to shower and get ready for the day. Thankfully, Greg doesn’t attempt to follow him in and stays out by the door. After coming out, clean and dressed, Harry led the way out of the dungeons to stop by the kitchens. Greg was more than happy to ask the elves for enough food to feed an army, while Harry just got some toast, a small bowl of fruit, and a mug of tea. 

As he ate, Harry led the way down towards Hagrid’s hut, where his morning Care of Magical Creatures class would be. He knew that the others wouldn’t take long to join him down there, and he was pretty sure he could see a few of the Hufflepuff’s that he shared the class with already gathered around. Ba’ul was half on top of the hut now, rather then coiled around it. The gathered students seemed to shy away, not willing to get any closer than they already were. 

Harry, already familiar with the Horntail, easily ducked under Ba'uls tail to enter the hut. Freya was inside, finishing her breakfast and yawning. She spared Harry a glance as he put his dishes in the sink, before going to the still warm kettle to make another cup of tea. He had the feeling that he could get used to this. 

“Uh, Harry,” Freya said, a brow raised. “What’s with your friend?” 

Glancing back, Harry caught a glimpse of Greg standing at the door, unable to get past Ba’uls tail. 

“Oh,” he sighed. “I may have mentioned Sirius yesterday, and now Draco doesn’t think I can be trusted to make good decisions. So he apparently set Greg as my personal guard. Just… Ignore him, and you’ll forget he’s there.” 

“Not sure anyone can forget he’s there. He’s a huge kid.” 

With a shrug, Harry glanced at the clock, finding that it was already time for class to start. Harry downed the rest of his tea, moving towards the door. Freya wasn’t too far behind him. 

“Alright,” Freya called, clapping her hands together to rub them together. “Everybody here? Good. First lesson is on dragons, since I’m not sure when I’ll be leaving.” 

She stepped out, holding a hand high in the air. Ba’ul, familiar with the gesture, crawled across the roof of Hagrid’s hut, the wood creaking dangerously beneath his weight. Everyone instinctively took several steps back, even Greg backed away, more afraid of the head than he had been of the tail. Harry rolled his eyes, moving to stand next to Ron. 

“Oh, don’t be such babies,” Freya groased, rolling her eyes as Ba’ul dropped to the ground beside her with a loud thump. “This is Ba’ul. And he’s as tame as a dragon can get.” She gently scratched at the softer patch of scales under Ba’ul’s chin. “He’s a bit special, since he’s the only dragon to have any sense of domesticity. This is due to a mix of imprinting and continued dependency after hatching.” 

She went on to explain several facts about Hungarian Horntails, as well as dragons in general. The class, for the most part, ended up being a lecture. Most didn’t want to get too close to the dragon, and the most student interaction was boiled down to answering questions based on uses of different parts of dragons, like their blood, dung, and hide. 

Harry stood in the back with Ron, watching as Freya spoke. 

“Hey,” Ron whispered, nudging Harry with his elbow. “What’s with Goyle?” 

Harry blinked, glancing around in confusion. It took him a moment to look behind him, noticing Greg standing just a step or so behind him, and watching the class and Ron over Harry’s shoulder. 

“Oh,” Harry sighed. “I may have slipped last night about… my godfather? Now Greg’s supposed to follow me around all day because I ‘can’t be trusted alone’.” 

Ron eyed Greg, who returned the judging look. “Guessing that blond git is the one that set him on you?” Harry nodded. “You know, for once I kinda agree with the slimy bastard…” 

“What?” Harry snapped, causing a few of the Hufflepuff’s nearby to look back at him. He quickly lowered his voice, practically hissing at his friend. “You can’t be serious. I’m not some kid that doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’ve fought dark wizards, survived a fight with a basilisk, and escaped from Voldemort. I don’t need a _babysitter_.” 

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Ron eyed Harry. “That’s not what I meant, mate. Just… Think about it, Harry. You’re always getting into trouble, one way or another. Maybe having someone else there to help in case you got into it with someone isn’t a bad thing?” 

Running a hand over his face, Harry groaned. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” Ron continues, “I would do it, but I can’t go into the Slytherin Common Room, or know when you try to sneak out at night.” 

It really didn’t make Harry feel any better. The idea of spending more time with his best friend was… appealing, he didn’t like the idea of anyone following him around all the time. He _hated_ the very idea. Harry did enjoy his privacy, and having someone always looking over his shoulder was the most unnerving thing Harry had to deal with. He made a mental note to redouble his efforts to shake Greg off his tail later. 

“Have you had Defense?” Harry asked instead, keeping carefully calm. “I haven’t been able to see Maria yet, and I don’t have Defense until tomorrow.” 

“Er,” Ron said, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Actually, mate, I have… And it’s pretty bad.” 

Instantly, Harry tensed. “Bad? What’s bad?” 

“Maria’s a great teacher,” he said, as if to ease Harry into the bad news. “But she said that we’re only going to be doing review. For now. Hermione was complaining about it this morning, says it might have to do with… You know, the Ministry.” 

“Of course it does,” Harry hissed, glowering. “But how are we going to be prepared for a fight, if no one is going to teach us?” 

“It’s just until Umbridge is gone. Just deal with two weeks of review and then we can go back to actually learning defensive spells. Just keep your head down and don’t let the toad goad you into doing something stupid, alright?” 

Harry didn’t say anything, but he did nod. The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Harry followed the Slytherin’s up to Transfiguration. He said goodbye to Ron at the entrance hall, as the redhead went up the stairs to his History of Magic class. Harry made sure that his sour mood at the news of Maria’s class didn’t show, though it was quickly forgotten as they reached McGonagall’s class. 

Umbridge sat in the corner, clipboard in hand. 

All of them took their seats, finding small boxes on their tables, each holding a pair of snails. Most of the Slytherin’s didn’t bother touching them just yet, which was expected, as even they had to much respect for McGonagall to try starting without her. They didn’t have to wait long, as McGonagall marched in, exactly one minute before class was to start. Harry found a deep, deep pleasure in the fact that she ignored Umbridge's presence entirely. 

“You will not pass an OWL,” she said, the exact second their class began, “without serious dedication to practice and study. There should be no reason everyone in this class shouldn’t achieve an OWL in Transfiguration if they put in the work.

“Hem, hem,” came the soft cough in the back of the room. McGonagall didn’t turn. 

“Now, today we will be starting the year with Vanishing spells. They are easier than Conjuring spells, which are NEWT level, but could appear on your OWL test. We will be attempting to vanish snails first. Completely vanishing them will be our goal for the next few lessons. However, should you all manage it sooner, we will move on to mice early.” 

“Hem, hem,” Umbrige coughed again, this time much louder. Everyone held their breath as McGonagall stopped. 

“Yes?” McGonagall said, turning to look at Umbridge with a scowl. Her brow was knit tightly together, lips pressed into a severely displeased line. 

“I was wondering,” Umbridge said, smiling as if she had won some sort of contest, “if you had received my note informing you of your inspection?” 

“Clearly I have,” the Gryffindor Professor said, still scowling. “Or I would have asked what you’re doing in my classroom.” She turned back to Harry and the other Slytherin’s intent on continuing her class. “Now, the Vanishing Spell-” 

“Hem, hem.” 

“Do you need a lozenge, Miss Umbridge?” McGonagall demanded coldly, turning her furious gaze back on the other witch. “If so, I suggest you go to Madam Pomfrey. However, if you are doing this to gain my attention, I’m beginning to wonder how you expect to gain any idea of my teaching methods. You see, I generally do not allow people to interrupt me when I am speaking, as you should remember.” 

The toad faced woman reeled, looking almost like McGonagall had just slapped her. She didn’t speak again, as the professor demonstrated the vanishing spell, giving a few quick instructions to help those that struggled. Harry turned to look down at his snails, which inched around in their box. He felt bad about vanishing something that had done him no wrong, but he was a bit more interested in the conversation between Umbridge and McGonagall. 

As students slowly worked on the vanishing spell, McGonagall wandered the room. Umbridge, while not following her, did ask questions whenever McGonagall got to close. 

"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge asked first. 

While McGonagall pursed her lips, she did answer. "This December will mark thirty-nine years." 

Harry frowned at that, wondering what the toad would want with that information. Surely how long McGonagall had been a professor was irrelevant. Right?... 

“Mr. Alistair,” McGonagall suddenly called. Harry jerked, looking over at her. “It would be best if you paid attention. Unless you intend to vanish your desk.” 

Looking back down towards his snail, he found that it had moved out of its spot in the wood, and there was now a lighter and faded spot on his desk. Flushing, Harry put his snail back in place, and focused on his work. The toad could wait until later. After all, he could just sneak into Umbridge's office later tonight and see what she was using this information for. 

When class was over, Harry left with Greg and Blaise to head to lunch. He stopped at the entrance hall, spotting Ron and Hermione. Just as they had the last time Harry saw them together, they were arguing, voices slowly rising. He didn’t care what it was about, really, but the constant bickering was getting on his nerves. 

“You can’t just ask him to… do _that_!” Ron was hissing at her. “Seriously, Hermione, don’t you know how much trouble he could get in?” 

“He won’t be in any trouble if you keep your voice down.” With a heavy sigh, Hermione rang her hands in the strap of her book bag. “Umbridge will do everything she can to stay, and the Minister will allow it. The way things are, we’ll be woefully unprepared. We need more than what Maria-” 

“But Umbridge is already gonna be gunning for him!” 

With a sigh, Harry walked over to his two friends, already feeling a headache coming on. “What are you two arguing about now?” 

Hermione lights up, turning her full attention to Harry. Ron, however, rolled his eyes and spoke up first. 

“Nothing, mate,” he insisted. “Hermione just had a bad idea, is all.” 

He knew almost immediately that Ron was lying. Hermione? A bad idea? That was his and Ron’s expertise. Hermione was the one that thought things through and made a coherent and functioning plan once she’d done all the research. 

Anger roiled in his gut again, bubbling and wild. Harry thought Ron was his friend. But if the red head was willing to lie to him, maybe that wasn’t the case… 

“I know that isn’t true,” Harry snapped, turning his eyes to Hermione. “Well? What is it?” 

She squirmed uncomfortably under his hard gaze, as if rethinking her idea, but it didn’t take long for her to regain her nerve. “The way Defense is going right now, a lot of people won’t know how to defend themselves. I thought, since you spent all summer training, you could teach others Defense. It would have to be in secret, of course, and we’d have to be careful with who we invite, but it would be better then what we have right now.” 

The anger dropped from him. Her proposed idea, in theory, wasn’t half bad. After all, if Umbridge was keeping Maria from teaching the class properly, then they’d need to have somewhere Umbridge couldn’t find to train anyway. Bringing others down there to teach them would certainly be a bonus… It could prevent some fatalities. 

Still, in practice… 

“It’s a great idea, Hermione,” Harry tells her, pausing as she seems to puff up with pride. “But Ron’s right. Right now, even just talking about it, is a bad idea. Umbridge hasn’t found any reason to stay yet. There’s still a chance of her having to leave in a week. So until we know if she’s staying or not, we should do what we can to keep our heads down. We don’t want to risk everything with a half cocked idea.” 

She glowered at him, brow pulled tight. “It isn’t half cocked…” 

Harry raised a brow at her. “Where would we meet? How would we get a large group of people inside without someone seeing us? How would we even recruit? For now, we just have to wait, and keep our heads down. Think you can do that Hermione?” 

Pursing her lips, she had an all too familiar look in her eye. The look she got when she was about to storm off for research. “Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the library.” 

As she left, Harry shared a look with Ron. They both knew she likely wouldn’t let the topic drop. It was only a matter of time before she perfected the idea and they had to hear it all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be adding more tags soon, and I was wondering if anyone had any that they thought needed to be added? I'm not sure myself at this point...   
> BTW, I have started plans for taking a Draco/Harry leaning. You've been warned.


	10. Divination and Defense

When Harry reached Divination that afternoon, he let out a heavy sigh and moved to sit in his now regular seat. He was the only Slytherin in his year still in the class, aside from Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. The two girls always sat together in the corner, seeming to take the class period to chat quietly, as it was an easy class to fake your way through. Trewlany would basically accept anything that spelled out Harry’s doom, so it wasn’t too hard to sleep through lessons and still pass with an Acceptable.

On his table was a copy of the book _The Dream Oracle_ , by Inigo Imago. Harry picked his copy up, just to see what kind of nonsense they’d be ‘learning’ today. Seemed like they’d be working on dream interpretation… 

Setting down the book, Harry instead pulled out a roll of parchment for ‘notes’ as Trelawney came out to begin the lesson. He was planning on starting on his essay for potions now that he had the free time. He could just ask Greengrass or Davis for the assignment, if he missed what it was, but for now he could focus on making a list of notes for key points in his essay. Others, however, began to whisper softly to others at their tables.

It was as Trelawney was going off about the importance of dream interpretation, that the soft and cheery whispers cut out. The trap door that led into the classroom was creaking open, revealing a much unwelcome face. It was Umbridge, a look of irritation on her lips that morphed into one of glee when she caught sight of the silent classroom. 

“Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney,” she said with far too much pleasure. “I trust you received my note about the time and date of your inspection?” 

While the professor did give a quick, if not outright vexed nod, Trelawney did turn back to the class to continue her lecture. Umbridge, meanwhile, was all too happy to pull up a chair and sit as she pulled her clipboard from her bag. Harry narrowed his eyes, and turned to give Trelawney his full attention, just to spite the woman. Who cared if the class was bogus? It was better than giving Umbridge the satisfaction of anything she could use to get Trelawney fired. 

As Trelawney finished her lecture, one hand came up to clutch at the edges of her shawl. “To start… Please make a note of your most recent night time vision, whatever you can remember, and consult the Oracle for aid in interpretation.” 

She turned, as if to go back to her desk, only to realize Umbridge was there. Instead, she veered off to the left, toward Patil and Brown. Meanwhile, Umbridge watched on, like a viper waiting for the right moment to strike.

Returning to his notes on the uses of Moonstone, Harry kept one eye on Umbridge. At first she was scratching notes rather intently as her eyes bore into the professor. It only took her a few minutes to decide that wasn’t enough, and instead stood to begin sweeping around the room, following Trelawney around like a toad shaped shadow. Each table Trelawney went to, Umbridge was there to listen in on every conversation and ask the occasional question. 

As they got closer to Harry’s little corner of the classroom, he flipped through the divination book, finding the sections for moonstones and potions. He jotted them down, just in case, before turning back to his list of things for his essay. 

“Now,” Harry could hear Umbridge say. “How long have you had this post, exactly?” 

A glance showed Trelawney scowling, but hunched into herself, as if trying to retreat and protect herself from the toad like woman. She looked almost offended, though a pause caused her to loosen, just a bit, as if realising the question wasn’t as rude as it had seemed. “Almost Sixteen years…” 

With a fake smile and a rather condescending hum, Umbridge made a note. “That’s quite some time. And it was Professor Dumbledore that appointed you?” 

“That’s right…” 

Another note was scratched into the clipboard, but Umbridge was already asking the next question. “You’re the great-great-granddaughter of the renowned Seer, Cassandra Trelawney, correct?” 

Another affirmative, and another note. 

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but you are the first in your family since her to possess the second sight?” 

To Harry, the question seemed needlessly invasive. Who really cared if others in Trelawney’s family had ‘second sight’. Most of it was hogwash anyway. 

“It often skips a few generations.” 

A wide smile akin to a sneer spread across the toads face. “Of course. Now… if you could predict something for me then, hm?” 

The normally mild mannered professor was instantly tense, her hands clutching at her sides. By now, Harry wasn’t the only one watching the interaction. “The Inner Eye does not see on command!” 

“I see.” With a soft but pleased hum, Umbridge began to make another note. 

For a moment, Professor Trelawney sputtered. “I… But… W-wait!” She took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself and return to her usual misty air, even as her fists shook at her side. “I… I do see something… It’s about you… Why, I sense darkness… A danger lurking…” Raising her hand, Trelawney pointed a finger at Umbridge, hand shaking as the toad simply continued to smile. “You are in grave danger! A great peril awaits you!” 

As a fair bit of the class sucked in sharp breaths, Umbridge simply rose a brow and wrote something down. “Right… Well if that’s the best you can do…” 

And just like that, Umbridge began to turn to leave. But Harry… Harry had seen this woman verbally berate two of his beloved teachers, and now a teacher who stood no chance against her bullying. He hated bullies, he hated how they treated those they saw as beneath them. And Harry wasn’t going to just sit back and watch this bully walk away. 

“Ma’am.” His voice was as sharp as the scrape of his chair on the floor, filling the room and commanding the attention of everyone within. All eyes moved to him, even Umbridge, as he held his head high in defense of his teacher. “You can think whatever you like. Trust me, I don’t always believe in predictions either, but in my years at this school, there is one thing that has always remained true: if Professor Trelawney makes a prediction about danger in your future, you had best heed the warning. When it comes to death and peril, she is seldom wrong.” 

For a moment, Umbridge simply studied him. Then, she smiled, the gesture making Harry’s spine crawl as she descended the trapdoor, the scratch of her quill echoing as she disappeared. Harry simply glowered after her, knowing he probably made more trouble for himself down the line. He dropped back into his seat, turning to scratch once more at his page, as Trelawney stepped up to his table. 

“Well?” she said, seeming both pleased and angry with him. “What have you got started?” 

Harry picked up his page of notes, holding it out to her. He’d made something up, having to do with moonstones so he wouldn’t get in trouble for doing his essay. He’d looked up the meaning of moonstones, then peace, and poison since he was in the P section and hadn’t wanted to go looking for the meaning behind love potions. 

“I fell asleep while working on my moonstone potions essay,” he lied easily. “I dreamt that I had made a Drought of Peace, only for it to turn into poison and a moonstone.” 

For once, Trelawney didn’t immediately go off about how it meant he would die before the end of the year. Instead, her voice grew rather quiet, misty even, as she spoke. “You are entering a new chapter of your life, a pause in the cycle of inner turmoil and conflict. However, it is just the calm before the storm. A darkness approaches, which will cause you great pain and suffering. If you manage to purge this darkness, you will be graced with wealth and prosperity.” 

As Harry stared, Trelawney carefully handed back his page, readjusted her glasses, and moved to return to her desk. For a moment, Harry couldn’t move. While it wasn’t the same as when she predicted Pettigrew’s return, this was definitely a prediction. But… could he really trust a prediction made by Trelawney with a fake dream? 

XxXXxX

After class was let out, Harry made his way back down to the Great Hall, hoping to catch Hermione and Ron before dinner. He looked around, eventually heading down towards the dungeons. Ron had double Potions last on Tuesday afternoons, and would likely get out both late and hungry. He was probably on his way to the kitchens, if he wasn’t there already. 

As he walked quickly, he caught sight of Draco, who was standing in the stairwell to the dungeons with Pansy. The two stopped as he approached, but Harry simply gave them a nod and walked past them. They didn’t say anything, just let him pass, and he reached the kitchens without fanfare. 

“Ron?” Harry called as he stepped inside. 

“Wha’?” 

Harry turned to find the redhead seated at the little table in the kitchens, a plate of pastries in front of him and crumbs stuck to his stuffed cheeks. He couldn’t help but sigh, and moved to sit across from him. 

“Do you know where Hermione is? There’s something I need to tell you guys before she hears it from someone else.” For a second, he paused in thought. “Actually… She probably already has, so I suppose it doesn’t matter who told her. She’s going to lecture me either way.” 

“No clue.” Swallowing hard, Ron reached for another pastry. “What do you need her for, anyway? You haven’t fallen for her, have you?” He wiggled the pastry in Harry’s face. “That’s a terrible move, mate. You know she’s dating Krum.” 

He scoffed, pushing the flaky thing away. “I haven’t fallen in love with Hermione, Ron. I’m not in love with _anyone_. And even if I was, you know Hermione’s like a sister to me. It would be so weird.” 

Ron hummed, taking a large bite. “Then wha’ do you need ‘er for?” 

“I need to tell her about what happened during my Divination class.” 

The redhead rose a sceptical brow. 

“Umbridge was there for Trelawney’s inspection.” 

Ron coughed, looking at Harry with wide eyes. “Harry, you didn’t do anything stupid, right? I mean, you said we should be keeping our heads down. Messing with the toad during class is the _opposite_ of keeping your head down.” 

Heaving a sigh, Harry hung his head in his hands, ruffling his hair in agitation. “Yeah, yeah, I know. She was bullying Trelawney for a prediction. Her predictions in class are usually bullshit, but that doesn't give Umbridge the right to act that way."

“So what do you need ‘Mione for? It’s not like she can make the problem disappear.” 

With another sigh, he reached to grab one of the pastries. “I know. But she can start planning for that Defense group. I started thinking about it, and we might not have a choice anymore. Umbridge can use what I said in Divination to convince Fudge that she needs to stay, meaning Maria won’t be able to teach what she wants without pushback. And then no one will be able to defend themselves when the war gets into full swing.” 

“You’ve got a point. But you also had a point earlier. It’s not like we’d be allowed to do this all in the open, and it would be hard to hide that many students.” Ron huffed a sigh of his own. “If we can’t figure out where or how, then we won’t get anywhere.” 

For a moment, he thought about their various options. 

There was the Forbidden Forest. It was large, and it certainly had the space. They wouldn’t have to worry about anyone needing a key or password to get in, or one of the members misplacing theirs where Umbridge could find. Plus, the length between campus and the forest was large enough that they didn’t need to worry about a large group having to enter all at once. But the forest was dangerous. While Harry had only met Firenze, the other centaurs certainly wouldn’t like a bunch of students stomping around their territory. Not to mention that they didn’t know just what else was in there. 

Another option would be the Shrieking Shack. It was secluded, not even on school grounds where Umbridge would be able to find them. And with the Shack’s reputation, thanks to Remus, no one would ask questions if strange sounds were coming from it. With all the rooms, they could even split into groups, have Ron help younger students, and Hermione and Harry could focus on the students their age. Still, there was the massive problem of how to get everyone there. They hadn’t started their Hogsmeade weekends yet, and wouldn’t until October. Not to mention, the only way they knew to get there in secret was the Whomping Willow. It was dangerous, and too many students going there at once would be far too suspicious. 

He was vaguely aware of somewhere called the ‘Come-and-Go Room’, but hadn’t ever been there himself. Supposedly, it could become whatever the summoner needed, whether it was a place to relax or a library. It could likely turn into a room where they could practice, but he still didn’t know where it was, or how they’d get so many people in without being seen. There was always the Marauders Map, but it was still a risk. Someone would notice a large number of students disappearing from the same corridor at the same time. 

So, if they were to make this Defense group, they needed somewhere large, where they could hopefully break into groups based on level, as well as easily accessible to everyone. But they would also need somewhere secluded, with more than one entrance, so they could alternate where they come in from to reduce suspicion. 

It was then that it hit Harry. Somewhere that fit nearly every criteria. It was secluded, with many entry points, and enough space for everyone. The only real problem would be the locked entrances. Harry was the only one who could open them, and he couldn’t exactly open them all at once. But, if they staggered arrival times, and started with the youngest groups first… He wouldn’t even have to lead groups in once he’d opened the door, thanks to the work he’d done the last two years. 

“I have an idea,” Harry said with a grin. “Actually, I think I may have accidentally made the perfect spot over the last two years.” 

Ron frowned, not seeming to follow. “What do you mean? Where are you thinking?” 

Harry grinned widder. 

“If you don’t figure it out by then, I’ll tell you and Hermione tomorrow during lunch. We’ll meet in the usual spot. You think you can tell Hermione?” 

Once Ron had nodded, Harry stood up and headed for the door. There were still a few hours before dinner, and he wanted to see if he could take the time to sneak into Umbrige’s office, just so he’d know what she was currently planning. But first, he needed to drop off his bag in the common room. 

Thankfully, no one was there when he arrived, and he was able to set his bag on his bed before transforming. The problem came when he tried to slip out the door to sneak into one of many cat passageways that Crookshanks had taught him to find. It was less of a problem, and more of a surprise. 

Draco threw open the door, mid rant. “-and I can’t believe Theo agreed with him! He’s supposed to be smarter than that perverted cretin. Why, if it wouldn’t cause a mess with my father, I’d curse his-” 

One heavy set foot nearly stomped across Harry’s tail, making him hiss. _“Watch where you’re going!”_

Almost immediately, Draco stopped. He slowly lifted his foot, took a step back, and stared down at Harry. Grey eyes peered down at him, as Harry mentally kicked himself. He wasn’t supposed to let his friends and classmates see his Animagus form. If they managed to connect the white marking above his left eye to his scar, the entire point of being an unregistered Animagus would be moot. 

Before Harry could dart away, Draco had already stooped down to pick him up. 

“I wasn’t aware that Millicent had gotten a new cat,” the blond said, more to himself, rather than Greg and Vince, who had come in behind him. 

“Don’t think she did,” Greg said, sounding as confused as always. 

Draco hummed, cradling Harry’s cat form in his arms. Hoping he didn’t look suspicious, Harry made himself purr and nudged Draco’s fingers when they reached to scritch behind his ear. That was normal cat behaviour, right? 

“Well, he must belong to someone,” Draco hummed, looking around. “Probably someone in our room. Did Theo or Blaise mention getting a cat?” 

Both the bigger boys shrugged, making Draco sigh. 

“Then he must belong to Harrison…” With another sigh, Draco made his way to his bed, dropping onto it. “He’s been rather secretive lately, and I understand why, but I would feel better if he would tell me what’s going on. Theo, Blaise, and I all told him we were on his side, but he barely speaks to us. And he just _vanished_ over the weekend. Now we find out that he brought a cat to school?” 

He shook his head, running his hands through the fur on Harry’s back. “I thought he trusted me…” 

Harry couldn’t help but feel ashamed. He hadn’t meant to make Draco feel that way, he just hadn’t been feeling up to talking to… anyone. There was so much going on, from his mother’s condition to Voldemort being back to Umbridge and the Ministry, that he almost didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He was being pulled in so many directions, it felt like his head was going to explode from the stress, and he had started to notice that he was becoming quick to anger. 

As much as Harry wanted to apologize, he was starting to worry that his temper could make him hurt someone, even if by accident. Or worse, on purpose. He could lash out without realizing, and accidentally hurt Hermione, Ron, Draco, even his own family… He’d begun to think he needed to ask Snape if there was some sort of potion that helped with these sorts of mood swings. 

From the side of the room, Greg gave a little cough, as if he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say anything to that. Draco quickly stood, like he’d been snapped out of some kind of daze. Cheeks burning red, the blond cleared his own throat, and set Harry down on his bed. 

“Right,” Draco snapped, dusting his robes off as if holding a cat for a moment would cover him in hair. “Well, I’m sure you both will be wanting to get up to dinner early again. We might as well go now. I can do my work at the table while we wait.” 

Greg and Vince didn’t bother trying to deny it, and were quickly back out the door. Draco turned to follow, only to pause, and turn back to gently rub between Harry’s ears. 

“Wherever he is,” he whispered, “I hope you’re making him feel better.” 

And with that, Draco was gone.

XxXXxX

Harry barely managed to pull himself out of a self beat-up session to make his way up to Umbridge’s office before dinner. He slipped in, alongside another cat, that eyed him with an air of cautious curiosity. Still, the cat was more than happy to let Harry wander around the office once he knew Harry wasn’t after the bowl of milk in the corner. 

The toad’s office was… horrifying. It was all pink, with ceramic plates with cats hanging on every free inch of wall space. He grimaced at the sight, tail twitching nervously. Several of the plates meowed at him as he hopped up onto the desk, feeling a bit of satisfaction when his sharp claws poked holes into the pink cloth covering as he pulled himself up. It was even more satisfying when he heard her quill vase crash to the ground. 

There were no rolls of parchment on her desk, so Harry had to work carefully to open one of the drawers. It took a while, but he didn’t want to risk changing back. While the woman was a slimy pink toad, she wasn’t exactly stupid. Harry wouldn’t put it past her to have some sort of alarm in her office if anything other than a cat entered. 

When the drawer finally opened, Harry barely caught himself before he tumbled in. The drawer, much to Harry’s destain, was empty, save for one pitch black quill in a clear case. He scowled at the quill, wondering just what it was. It couldn’t be a spare, as he had just knocked the decorative cup that held Umbridge’s quills. Besides, why would a spare quill need a case of its own? 

There was a soft chime from a cat clock on the wall, signalling the half hour mark. He looked up at it, beginning to wonder just where the time went. It was already six-thirty, and if he wanted to make it to dinner without being suspicious, he’d have to leave now. 

Hopping up from the drawer, Harry slipped off the desk and down to the floor. He gave the cat that he came in with a little mewl of acknowledgement before he left. He hadn’t really found any of Umbridge’s plans, but it was to be expected. There just weren’t enough hours in the day to roam the castle in cat form while snooping on a Ministry official, but Harry supposed he hadn't come back with nothing. That quill, at the very least, was suspicious enough to warrant further investigation. 

Perhaps another day…

XxXXxX

When Harry finally made it to Defense, his second class that Wednesday morning, he found that Umbridge was already inside, as Maria excitedly told her about her lesson plan. She looked rather enthused, while Umbridge looked begrudgingly pleased. Harry took the chance to sit in the front, simply bringing out the journals that Maria had been sending him over the years. 

The other Slytherins came in around him, as Maria slowed her conversation, just in time for the bell to sound the beginning of class. The French witch smiled, gliding across the room to the chalkboard. As she turned, picking up the chalk to write by hand, Harry saw her wand sticking out of her hair, apparently being used like an ornament to hold it up in a bun. 

“Welcome,” she said, voice light and cheery, as she tapped the chalk sharply against the board to dot the i’s in her name. “I am Professor Maria Wright, but please, feel free to call me Madame Maria. I am pleased to be here, at this honorable school, to teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts. As you could probably tell, I am from France, where I taught at Beauxbatons. However, please note that I will be gone for maternity leave starting some time in January.” 

Turning back to the board, she began to write again, starting a bulleted list of a basic rundown of their teachers for each year. 

“So far you have had four separate teachers,” Maria continued, adding a note of each teacher to their corresponding year. “Which has led to a bit of a disconnected learning environment. So, to start off, we’ll be running review lessons on each major subject until you have it all perfected. As they say, better to have one sharp sword than a hundred dull ones, yes? Now, before I begin our first review lesson of your Year One course work, are there any questions?” 

Harry glanced around, wondering if maybe someone else would ask. No hands were raised yet, so Harry decided he might as well put his own up. Maria turned, keeping her face carefully calm, as she smiled. 

“Yes, Harrison?” 

Clearing his throat, Harry lowered his hand. “If we’re doing only review, then does that mean we won’t be learning any new spells to defend ourselves?” 

She hummed, as if she had to think on that. “Honestly, it will depend entirely on your class and what you remember from your previous lessons. Should you be lacking in an area, we may not be able to move on before I have to leave. But I will endeavour to ensure you are all properly prepared for your OWL’s this spring.” 

That sent a soft murmur around the Slytherins. Across the room from him, Harry could hear Blaise and Theo muttering in agitation, before the former thrust his hand into the air. 

Maria turned to him. “Yes, Monsieur...?” 

“Blaise Zabini,” he said sharply. “You’re telling me that we won’t be learning how to use any new defense spells until _January_?” 

Before Maria could speak, Umbridge stood. 

“Mr. Zabini,” she said, laughing a bit. “Why on earth would you need to know how to _use_ defensive spells? I certainly can’t imagine any situation arising in the classroom where you would need to use any spell.” 

“But if we were to be attacked-” Blaised tried, brow furrowed, only to be cut off by Umbridge’s laugh. 

“Attacked?!” She bellowed, voice hauntingly sadistic. “Mr. Zabini, you’ll be learning in a risk free environment. There will be no attacking done in this class.” 

Daphne Greengrass raised her own hand. “Daphne Greengrass. Miss, I think what Blaise was trying to ask was if we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be in a risk free-” 

“And I repeat,” Umbridge snapped, though she forced an irritated smile. “Are you expecting to be attacked during class?”

Harry couldn’t help it. He snapped. “Yes.” 

The room fell absolutely silent. Slowly, Umbridge turned, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” 

“I said,” Harry grit out. “Yes. I do expect to be attacked while we’re here. Three out of four of our teachers have attacked me, two of which aimed to _kill_ me.” 

Umbridge’s face went bright red, unable to keep up her charde. “Well, those are isolated instances, and the fault of your previous teachers. The chances of you being attacked here are-” 

“Extraordinary,” Theo said. “Second year we were being attacked by a monster. It took Draco. And third year, Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban, and the Ministry _never found him._ The chances of us being attacked once out of this room are astronomical. Especially if the Ministry doesn’t do anything to fix their past mistakes.” 

“The chances of being attacked _in this room_ is pretty high as well,” Pansy adds. “I mean, remember last year? When Crouch’s son, a _Death Eater_ that _escaped Azkaban_ , was throwing around unforgivables? I mean, really, letting things slide and Death Eaters escape Azkaban is what the Ministry does best nowadays.” 

“Alright,” Maria said, stepping forward. She looked almost resigned. “Alright, all of you. It’s time to settle down.” She turned to Umbridge. “Madame, I believe that you have disrupted my class long enough. Perhaps you should be out of the room while I teach.” 

“You’re telling _me_ to leave?” Umbridge hissed, standing straighter and seeming to make herself look as imposing as possible. “I am the Inquisitor! You can not make me leave a classroom in the middle of an inspection. This will result in poor marks on-” 

Instantly, Maria’s face hardened.

“The only marks I care about right now are the scores on these students OWL’s,” she hissed. “As is _my job_ as their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. And, as Inquisitor, it is _your job_ to observe, and make sure that my teaching is holding up to Ministry standards. Your job is _not_ starting political debates in the middle of a first lesson. Because I’m certain that you will not have a response for all the things that have happened in the last two years alone.” 

She paused, eyes narrowed in a way Harry had never seen before. Every time Maria had spoken in the past, she had been calm and carefully composed. Never had she gained such a stern tone, an almost imposing air around her. For a moment, Harry wasn’t sure that he was looking at the same woman that had married his brother. 

“Now,” Maria continued, “I’m sure you have more than enough information on my teaching methods. Unlike you, I have been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts for nearly ten years, and I am well aware of the standard for OWL’s. So I ask that you leave now, so that I may start my preparations to give these students the best chance they can have.” 

Umbridge scowled, starting to furiously scratch at her clipboard with her quill as she walked quickly out the room. Clearly, just like McGonagall and Trelawney, this ‘inspection’ hadn’t gone the way the toad had expected. Undoubtedly, she’d use this as a reason to stay, if she hadn’t already found one. 

Harry turned to watch Maria, as she heaved a sigh. She turned back to the board, flipping it over to write down the first revision subject. They’d be starting with what they learned in first year, all the way back with the first group of spells. It would be a sort of practical pre-test. Just to see if they still remembered. If they did well enough, they could start with a written quiz on Imps, to see if they needed a refresher course on them or could move on to Ghosts. 

They went up, one by one, to demonstrate the first year spells Maria wrote on the board. It was almost surreal, demonstrating green and red sparks, lumos and fumos, along with flipendo. Such… simple spells that had only been used in practice, or he had used nearly every day since learning it. 

Thankfully, everyone seemed to remember how to do them, though it was a near miss for Vince and Greg. They were struggling, even with simple spells. Someone would definitely need to tutor them… And, Harry supposed, it would have to be him. 

“It took a bit longer than I thought,” Maria sighed, glancing at the clock. “And I don’t think we have enough time for the quiz. Now, I’ve been offering this to all of my classes, but if you’re worried about not passing a quiz, I’ll be putting up a schedule for my office hours by Friday. On weekends, I’ll be holding tutoring sessions based on what will be coming in the next week. Even if you think you might be the only one to come, please ask for help if you think you need it. If it means your class gets to move on sooner, then it’s worth it.” 

The bell rang for lunch, and Harry gathered up his bag. With a quick smile and wave to Maria, he hurried out to get to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to Addicted2Reading16, my new Beta reader!


	11. Let the Games Begin

When Harry arrived in Myrtle’s bathroom, he wasn’t surprised that neither Ron nor Hermione had arrived yet. After all, Ron had Potions in the dungeons, and Hermione had Transfiguration on the ground floor, two levels below him. He stretched, letting ideas swirl in his head as Myrtle came out to swirl above him. 

“Hello, Harrison,” she said, giving a smile that had once made him uncomfortable but had since become familiar. “You’re going back down to your snake friend?” 

“Yes,” he said, moving to feel the snake insignia on the faucet. “My friends will be here soon to go down with me. We have some things we need to work on.” 

He carefully focused on the snake, envisioning it in his mind to help pull on his Parseltongue ability. The low hiss came out, ordering this particular entrance to open, as Myrtle swirled above him. If he actually got his plan to work, then it would be important to have her as an ally. She could move quickly around the castle, like all of the ghosts, though she tended to stay inside her own bathroom. If he could recruit her to his cause, she’d be able to warn others for him if they couldn’t get in for whatever reason. 

As the sinks slid back and out of place, Ron and Hermione arrived. The redhead looked just as confused as he had been the day before, while Hermione seemed agitated at not being in the know for once. 

“Harry,” she started, striding in with her heavy book bag slung over her shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday, and-” 

“So have I,” Harry cut in. “But for now, let’s just get somewhere private, before Umbridge notices we aren’t at lunch and comes looking for us.” 

He gestured them forward to the slide down into the Chamber, though the two didn't jump in right away. They turned to each other first, looking rather concerned, before Ron took the lead and went down. Hermione followed, leaving Harry to trail after them, hissing a quick  _ ‘close’ _ at the sinks before following. 

When he reached the bottom, he found Ron and Hermione waiting to help him up from the ground. 

“Now that we’re in a more ‘private’ venue,” Hermione drawled. “Mind telling me what’s going on? Ron said you wanted to talk about my idea, but that you didn’t tell him anything.” 

“Right,” Harry chuckled. “Sorry, Ron, I just wanted to have you both here when I told you.” 

He started to walk towards the main chamber, as Ron and Hermione hurried to follow. 

“So, before I talk about your Defense group idea, I just want to be sure you both know that any hopes of Umbridge leaving are definitely gone.” 

“No bloody shit,” Ron scoffed, glaring half heartedly at Harry. “You called Umbridge out, in public. She’s gonna tell Fudge that you’re probably trying to get the crazy old bat to tell you the rest of that prophecy or whatever.” 

That… actually made Harry pause. He hadn’t actually thought about the prophecy since the Order meeting he had sat in on after his mother’s accident. He still didn’t know what it was, but that didn’t really matter to him. He already knew that he wasn’t going to go looking for it, in case it happened to help Voldemort just as much as it helped him. 

But what did that have to do with Trelawney? 

“Uh,” Ron hesitated at Harry and Hermione’s blank stares. “Because… Because Trelawny was the one to make that prophecy?”

While Harry was left just as confused as before, Hermione seemed to pick up on what he was trying to say.

“Of course!” She slapped her forehead, as if she should have thought of this apparently clear line of reasoning ages ago. “Harry, when you told us about the prophecy, you said Snape heard part of it from Trelawny. She was the one who gave your prophecy, so she could know the rest of it.”

“But in third year, she didn’t remember the prophecy about Pettigrew,” he reminded them. “She just coughed and went on with her day.” 

Ron just shrugged. “I don’t know, mate. Maybe the Ministry doesn’t know that she doesn’t remember her prophecies.” 

Harry nodded, letting the topic drop for now. But he’d have to keep a closer eye on Trelawny. After all, if Voldemort was after the full prophecy, and he thought Trewlawny knew it, he could try to send someone after her. For all they knew, there could be a Death Eater waiting in Hogsmeade for whenever Trewlawny went there next… 

“Anyway,” Harry said as they reached the main Chamber. Sila lifted her head to turn at the sound of his voice, tongue flicking out to taste the air. “It’s not even just Trewlawny anymore. In Defense, I sort of snapped again and started an argument about us being attacked in class. Some of the other Slytherin’s joined in, about the Ministry’s mistakes, and Umbridge wasn’t happy when she left. There’s no way we’re getting rid of her in time to learn any new defensive spells.” 

They set down their things, Harry and Ron just dropping their bags onto the floor by the table, while Hermione was careful to put hers on it to pull out a stack of notes from one of her classes. Harry moved to instead drop onto the mass of blankets that made Sila’s nest, so he could lean back against her thick scales. 

“Can’t you just talk to her?” 

He winced, knowing that while, yes it could be a viable option, it wouldn’t do much in the long run. His lesson with Maria today showed just how behind some of his classmates really were, Vince and Greg in particular. 

“I wish I could, Ron, but… You have to admit that a new teacher each year hasn’t helped us keep a clear learning curve. Maybe you haven’t seen it yet, but I’m sure that even in Hufflepuff, there’s at least one person struggling to remember  _ first year _ lessons. It can’t just be Vince and Greg.” 

Hermione nodded in thoughtful agreement. “Yes… Harry has a point. Seamus Finnagin, I’m sure you’ve both seen him. Well, he forgot the right movement for Vermillious, and ended up exploding his desk.” She shook her head, clearly annoyed just thinking about it. “It slowed our entire class down while he went to the hospital wing. And, sadly, I don’t have the time to give him one on one tutoring.” 

“Yeah, about that…” Harry smiled. “I think we should actually do the Defense group.” 

Surprisingly, it was Hermione that tried to turn the idea down this time.

“We can’t, Harry,” she sighed, reaching deep into her bag to pull out another roll of parchment. “I’ve been thinking over what you said before, and you were right. There’s just too much to think about. We don’t have any way to recruit without gaining suspicion, and we don’t even have a place to practice. And even if we did, all the places I’ve thought of so far just aren’t suited for large groups.” 

Harry felt his smile grow, mischievously curling one corner of his mouth as he spread his arms wide. “But we have a place to do it already!” 

At first, both of them looked at him as if he wasn’t speaking english. They stared at him, glanced around the Chamber, then stared at him some more. When the thought finally occurred to either of them that he meant to have the meetings  _ here _ , in the Chamber of Secrets, their confusion turned to shock. 

So, Harry explained that, in his attempts to stay out of trouble the last two years, he’d been mapping the Chamber and its tunnels. Hell, Ron and Hermione had even helped him with it for a while. They had torches laid out in most of the tunnels, and they knew exactly where the entrances were for half of them. Surely Harry could go and open the tunnels from the inside to let smaller groups in at various spots around the castle. Harry could even use the map to make sure it was safe to let them in.

All they would really need to do was finish off some more of the tunnels, and find a way to recruit. 

“It’ll be easier said than done,” Hermione mused. “And we’ll want to find some way to let them in that doesn’t make Harry run around half of the meeting… But I’m sure that can wait. For now we just need to find out how many people will be joining us.” 

“We could do a recruitment seminar.” Ron suggested, leaning back a little as he frowned up at the dark ceiling. “Pick a place we won’t be interrupted, then reach out to people we trust first. They can bring a few friends and we could talk about why we need this. Give a speech or somethin’. Then, if they wanna join, they gotta sign something so they can’t talk.”

Hermione went wide eyed, turning to rummage in her back again. “Ron, that’s genius! I picked up a book about magical contracts, and I think I might be able to curse a piece of parchment. It won’t stop them from talking, but if they’re going to tell someone…” 

Harry thought about reminding Hermione that she was talking about cursing people, but if it meant keeping the rest of them safe, it was probably for the best. After all, they were getting to the point where the war could officially start any day now. Voldemort was probably waiting until he had the full prophecy to attack, just so he’d know if it mentioned how Harry could defeat him. They would have to be extremely careful. 

With Hermione distracted with… whatever it was that she was reading, Harry talked quietly with Ron about Quidditch. Apparently, while the Hufflepuff team was looking for backups, the only position that needed filling was Keeper. Ron wasn’t sure that he’d get it, but Harry did his best to reassure that, if he could, he’d poach Ron for Slytherin Keeper. It was going to be hassle enough trying to find two Beaters, much less two Beaters that worked well together, but to find a good Keeper on top of that? 

He supposed he couldn’t complain too much, though. Next year, Gryffindor was going to lose half their team  _ and _ their captain. Whoever took over would have a lot of seats to fill. 

“I’m just glad I got Adrian to stay.” He sighed. “And just by getting him the chance to talk to your brothers.” 

Ron jerked, eyes widening in surprise. “Wait. Is  _ that _ where they got the money?” 

“Money?” 

“Yeah, they got a load of money from somewhere. They’ve been putting up fliers everywhere, trying to recruit testers for their new jokes. Did Pucey decide to back them or something?” 

Harry, honestly not knowing, just shrugged. Maybe that was what Adrian had wanted with the twins. It wouldn’t be a surprise that the older Slytherin would be a good businessman. Fred and George were quite brilliant, and the joke items they’d been able to make before always ran out. It was a good business venture, if a strange one. 

XxXXxX

Over the next two weeks, Harry, Ron, and Hermione worked on the Chamber. They spent most of their free time down there, whether it was doing homework or actually mapping. Hermione had sent a few letters to Remus, hoping he could give her some advice on making a map specifically for the chamber. It would certainly help, just in case someone got lost coming in. 

Harry, meanwhile, filled in the other Slytherin boys when he had the chance, getting them to tell some of the others that they trusted to not rat them out. He also had Ron tell Marrissa, so they could get the Ravenclaws in. She ended up joining them in the Chamber, and was fascinated by Sila. 

When the fifteenth rolled up, Harry was in the Great Hall, busy looking over a list of supplies he wanted to get from Hogsmeade for the Chamber, when the room was called to silence by Dumbledore.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware,” he started, looking over the rim of his glasses. “The two weeks of Miss Umbridge’s inspection are drawing to a close. Normally, this is where we would sadly have to say farewell to our Inquisitor. However, I’ve been informed that she, and the Ministry, had decided to extend the inspection in the hopes of bettering our school. So, may I rewelcome Madam Umbridge, our new High Inquisitor.” 

It was to Harry’s immense pleasure that no one clapped as Umbridge stepped up to the podium. She smiled, looking across the room to unhappy faces. 

“It’s delightful to know that I will remain for the rest of the year,” she said, voice dripping with mirth as her eyes landed on Harry. “I hope we can all continue to get along, and work together to make this school a better place for faculty and students alike. To do so, you’ll be seeing many changes over the course of the year, in the form of Educational Decrees. As they are made, your caretaker will hang them up outside this very room, so that we can all be reminded of the change.” 

She smiled, and with that, moved to retake her seat. The Great Hall was nearly silent as students returned to their food. Harry, though he’d known this was coming, had lost his appetite. 

XxXXxX

That next morning, Harry woke up early to head down to the pitch. Somehow, Snape had gotten them the morning slot for that Saturday to do tryouts, and Harry had a bit of a headache after the announcement the night before. Still, he was up at dawn, working out on the pitch to get everything ready: School’s spare brooms laid out, his list of applicants, and the chest with the balls set out. 

He’d had enough people sign up that, even after they cut out the first years, they could set up two teams to see how good they were in action. So, while he pulled aside the three applicants for Seeker, the team would keep an eye on the scrimmage match to check on the other’s skills. 

When everyone finally came down to the pitch, Harry was half yawning, with his Quidditch robes on. The rest of the team came to join him as he cleared his throat. 

“Alright,” he yawned. “Right now, we’re only looking for Beaters and a Keeper for the main team. However, we’re trying to build up our reserve team, so we will be looking for spares in every position. That means if one of the main team is out of commission, the reserve player will take their place. Now, if you don’t want to be a reserve player, that’s fine. You can head back up to the castle and I’ll cross your name off the list.” 

No one moved, so Harry nodded, and looked down to his list. He hadn’t expected anyone to leave. 

“We’ll be running a scrimmage match,” Harry explained, heading over to the equipment crate to pull out some spare jerseys. “Two teams, jerseys versus coats, no Seekers. Game ends when one team reaches one-hundred points. My team will be watching you while I take the Seekers aside for reserve tryouts. Those three are second years Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard, and fourth year Tabitha Romily. 

“Team one will have fifth years Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson, and third year Lysander Lewis as Chasers. Fifth years Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe will play as Beaters, with third year Arabella Williams as Keeper. Team two will have fourth years Harper Long, Astoria Greengrass, and Tobais Willoughby as Chasers, with fifth year Millicent Bulstrode and sixth year Archibold Walker as Beaters. Cassius Warrington will play Keeper. Team one will be jerseys.” 

Looking up, Harry scowled. “What are you all just standing around for? Let’s get a move on, people! We only have the field until noon!” 

Everyone moved quickly, with the first group running to put on the jerseys. Behind him, Harry could hear Draco snort, so he reached back to lightly whack the blonde's shoulder with the back of his hand. 

Gathering up his potential Seekers, Harry looked the three over. Currently, he was thinking about having either Baddock or Pritchard as his reserve. They were young, and it would be easier to get them out of bad habits, compared to Romily, who would take more work. Plus, with Baddock and Pritchard, they’d be able to stay longer after he left. Whether that was graduation or by… other means, it would still be good to have a more lasting replacement. 

He started with the easiest exercise: Track the Snitch. 

Taking one of the practice balls, Harry held it up so it caught the early morning light. He waited until they were all looking at it, then let it go, letting it spread its wings and start flittering around. He kept his eyes on the three, tracking where their eyes went, to see who could actually track it. Romily, unsurprisingly, was able to track the Snitch as it fluttered around. Pritchard did pretty well, clearly catching sight of it every now and then, able to follow it for a while before he’d lose sight of it again. Baddock took a bit longer to catch sight of it again, but when he did, he kept his eyes locked on it. 

After going up to catch the practice Snitch, Harry got them on their brooms. He went up with them, in their secluded area of the pitch, as he kept a bucket of rubber balls seated carefully on his broom in front of him. One by one, he threw the balls out, watching them arc through the air, before diving towards the ground. The potential Seekers took turns diving after them, letting Harry see how well they flew on their brooms. 

Finally, Harry released another practice Snitch, having them take turns in pairs chasing after it. He’d already made his choice by then, and was just watching to confirm. 

When he called an end to the exercise, he had the three land, and went to put away their equipment. 

“Before I tell you all my decision,” Harry said, looking the three over. “I would like to compliment all of you on your skills.” He paused, then cleared his throat, looking down at his notes. “Romily, while you’re a great flyer, and I’d love to put you on the team, I am looking for someone to train to take my place longer than a year.” 

Romily, to her credit, only huffed in annoyance. She thanked him for the opportunity to try out, before turning on her heel to stalk off the pitch. Harry couldn’t blame her for being mad. After all, he’d basically told her she was good, but he’d rather take someone two years her junior. 

Turning to Baddock and Pritchard, Harry hummed. “Pritchard, you’re a quick flyer, but you have too much trouble following the Snitch. While Baddock is a bit slower, that can be solved with a bit more training and a confidence boost, so I’ll take him as my reserve this year. Maybe next year, try out for Chaser. I think you’d do well there, Pritchard.” 

The kid sniffled, rubbing his eyes but not seeming to be all that surprised. He gave Baddock a smile and a jerky nod, seemingly happy that at least one of them got the chance, before heading back to the castle. Baddock, on the other hand, was jittery with excitement. He looked like his head was going to explode. 

Shaking his head, Harry told the kid to head back to the castle. He’d tell him when practices were later. 

It was as Harry watched Baddock dart back up to the castle, probably to tell his friends what had happened, that Harry saw Ron running towards the pitch. He frowned, heading to meet his friend half way. 

“Ron?” he asked. “What are you doing down here? Hufflepuff tryouts aren’t until tomorrow.” 

“Umbridge,” Ron wheezed out. “Educational Decree… Teams…” He sucked in a hard breath, leaning forward. “Gotta… Gotta go see.” 

Harry, fearing the worst, put his whistle to his lips and blew. Everyone up in the air stopped, turning to look at him. The two groups had been quite balanced, and were at sixty to fifty. Adrian, the oldest of the current team, came down to meet him. 

“What’s going on?” 

Harry shook his head, handing over the whistle. “I have to go find out. For now, keep the scrimmage going. You’re in charge. If I’m not back by the time it ends, send everyone back to the castle and we’ll go over everything when we have the time.” He turned, slapping Ron’s shoulder. “Come on!” 

Ron groaned, but turned to follow Harry up the hill again. 

It was when Harry reached the wall outside the Great Hall that he saw it. 

**_Educational Decree 24_ **

_ "No student organisations, societies, teams, groups and/or clubs may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor." _

Glowering at the plaque, Harry snapped. “You’ve got to be joking.” 

XxXXxX

Harry stood with Angelina Johnson, Cedric Diggory, and Cho Chang outside Umbridge’s office. There were several other students gathered around, though they were mostly club leaders. The Gobstone and Rat Race club leaders were arguing after someone suggested that the decree was made due to budget cuts. Only, Harry had the sneaking suspicion it might just be Umbridge being a bitch. 

He watched as one by one, club leaders from the Gryffindor Art Club to the Slugs & Bugs Club went in to meet with Umbridge. Each one was in for at least twenty minutes, and came out with a hefty stack of forms. Harry remained with the other Quidditch captains, wondering if they’d have to go through all of this themselves, as they were a school organized and sanctioned team, rather than a club created by a student. 

“Miss Chang,” Umbridge called, just half an hour before dinner, as the four of them were the only one’s left, “Come in. You’ll be my last appointment today, so the rest can go back to your dorms and try again tomorrow. My office hours are on a board behind you.” 

Harry glared at her, refusing to turn around. He knew full well that she didn’t have hours on Sundays. And he refused to come back in the few hours he could spare Monday afternoon. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Angelina hissed, throwing her hands up. “Gryffindor is supposed to hold tryouts tomorrow morning! We can’t do that if we aren’t reinstated!” 

“Ravenclaw was supposed to have them this afternoon,” Cho countered, looking rather distraught. “I don’t know how we’re going to get our team put together without finding the new Chasers we need.” 

“Exactly why you’ll be coming in now, Miss Chang,” Umbridge said, eyes honing in on Harry with an almost sick satisfaction. “Though, I suppose I should take time to speak with Alistair first. After all, he led an unapproved session this morning, and will likely need to be punished.” 

Harry almost hissed, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise. “I’ve been out on the pitch since dawn. There’s no way I could have known, you fu-” 

He was cut off by Cedric, the Head Boy clearing his throat as he stood. 

“Maybe the four of us could come in together?” he suggested. “After all, we’re all Quidditch Teams, just for different houses. It would mean we could all get everything done tonight, and you don’t have to repeat anything. Plus, some of us might have similar questions.” 

In all honesty, Umbridge looked like she wanted to argue. She pursed her lips, glancing around at the four of them, only to find them in total agreement. It was clear she was trying to gauge how much rioting would be caused if she didn’t reform the Quidditch teams quickly and fairly. She must have guessed the correct answer of ‘way too much’, because she gestured for them to enter her office. 

It looked much the same as it had nearly two weeks ago, when Harry had snuck in in his animagus form. Pink and covered in cats. 

“Now,” she said, voice as sweet as a poisoned apple. “We’re going to make sure that all of these teams are clearly approved and have a good, healthy learning structure that’s approved for a school setting. To do that, you’ll need to submit a full report of funds, equipment, and students part of the group, who will have to sign as well. It will also have to be signed by the supervising teacher, as well as myself. 

“As for returning to your activities, no more meetings, group ups, or sessions can be held until the proper forms have been processed. Which means any scheduled events will have to be canceled and rescheduled to a later date.” The toad smiled, reaching down under her desk to pull out four more sets of the massive stacks of forms. “Now, will there be any… objections?” 

Harry wanted to tell her that this was all bullshit. She was doing this just to gain more control of the school, and to make his life as difficult as possible. Well, maybe not that second part. Not everything was about him. Still, this felt very targeted. 

So, he pulled his stack to himself, flipping through the top few to look at an itemized list of requirements. 

“What about for new members?” Cho asked, struggling to hold the many pages without dropping them. “I know who’s on the team right now, but we still have a few spots to fill. How are we supposed to fill in the section with our team members if we can’t hold a session until this is in?” 

“You’ll have to fill out the proper addition forms,” Umbridge said, her smile still in place as she reached into her desk to pull out another stack of forms, much smaller than the ones they had, but still rather hefty. “These will also need to be signed by you, the new member, your supervising teacher, and myself. One for each new member.” 

Looking from the forms already in his arms, to the second set of forms on the table, Harry was glad that he had managed to hold the Slytherin tryouts already. He was not envious of the three other captains. 


	12. A Toads Detention

The amount of paperwork that Umbridge was forcing them to do was insane. 

It took Harry three days to sort through the entirety of it. He had to go down to the pitch to see how many Slytherin Quidditch robes there were, and exactly how many practice balls of each type they had. He had to make a calendar of all their events for the next three months, including precise times that they’d start and end. Then he had to find out how many broomsticks the team had access to, personal and from the school, only to realize he’d have to go back and redo the entire section when he noticed he hadn’t even picked the new team members yet. 

Which led to now, as Harry was huddled around a table in the Slytherin Common Room with his team after classes, getting them to sign the members section and write down the make and model of their personal broom. 

“This is ridiculous,” Draco snarled, as he added his Nimbus 2001 to the list of equipment. “What does it matter what brooms we all have?” 

“Don’t know,” Harry sighed, taking the moment away from the forms to look over Adrian’s notes from the tryouts. “Really don’t care. Hey, what do you think of Astoria Greengrass?” 

Quirking a brow, Draco passed the pages to Adrien, turning to look at Harry in surprise. “Finally thinking about courting, Harrison? Well, she’s only a year younger than we are, and the Greengrass family is one of the sacred twenty-eight. That could, however, go either way in your case. Purebloods, but rather tolerant compared to some. Though, I suppose a good point in your favor would be her rather large crush on you for some years…” 

Harry blanched. “Courting? No, I meant… I meant as a reserve Chaser!” He paused, letting the blonds words sink in. “Wait, she has a crush on me?” 

“Really Harrison,” Draco sighed. “You hadn’t noticed? She was practically hanging off of you most of last year.” 

“I was a little busy trying not to die most of last year.” 

The blond rolled his eyes, as if it were a pitiful excuse. He added a few more things to the list, some personal gear he’d brought from home, before sliding the stack back to Harry. “She’s quick and nimble, and would make a fine Chaser. With a bit more training, she’d likely be perfect for taking Pucey’s spot on the team. If that’s what you want.” 

For some reason, Harry felt like he’d pushed a few buttons that he shouldn’t have. Sadly, he had to finish this paperwork sooner rather than later, and would need to get his reserve players to sign as well before he turned it in. There was no way he was filling out ‘new member forms’ when he was finished with this stack. 

So, with a quick goodbye to Draco, Harry went to find his reserve players, new Beaters, and Keeper. Aside from the two Keepers, they weren’t hard to find, as they were all at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Pansy and Astoria seemed to be discussing the tryouts, as Greg and Vince were busy stuffing their faces. 

“Great,” Harry huffed, as he dropped the forms onto the wooden surface. “You’re all here. I need you to help me fill out these forms.” 

“Bloody hell Alistair,” Pansy snorted, running a finder down the side of the stack. “I heard about all the paperwork you had to do, but I didn’t know you had to do so much.” 

With a heavy sigh, Harry reached up to run a hand through his hair, ruffling it even more than it had been. “Well, yeah. Because nothing can ever be done quickly around here. Every year is a painful slog through one thing or another. Usually it’s a mystery, sometimes it’s fights like the tournament.” He gestured to the pages. “This year must be paperwork.” 

“I’m sorry, Harrison,” Astoria said, though she looked almost hopeful instead of sympathetic. “I could… help you, if you like?” 

Rather than take the offer, Harry winced. Draco’s words from earlier echoed in his head. ‘Her rather large crush on you.’ Was he going to need to turn her down? Rejection was a hard thing to deal with, and if she was on the team, it could get awkward. Still, he wanted an extra reserve chaser, and she was one of the better options… 

“Er, no, Astoria. I’ll be fine. Just…” He cleared his throat, fumbling to get out the right pages. “Just fill in your section, if you don’t mind. Need to get this finished so we can have practice this week.” 

He almost felt guilty at her disappointed look, but he’d rather not do anything that could lead her on. Astoria was a nice girl, but he just wasn’t attracted to her. So he’d try to keep his distance. Keep things professional. 

While the Fourth year worked on filling in her equipment, Harry dropped onto the bench to sit next to Pansy. He sat backwards, slouching and leaning back, resting the back of his head on the table. September wasn’t even over, and he was already tired. Glancing at Vince and Greg, Harry lifted his head to look to Pansy. 

“You think they managed to pass the review test in Defense today?” 

“It was on first year creatures,” Pansy mused, though she seemed rather skeptical. “I’d like to think they did, but I’m not holding out on that hope.” 

“Someone will have to tutor them. I would do it, but I just don’t have the time.” With a heavy sigh, Harry dropped his head back with a soft thunk. “I never have enough time. Even in first year, I was dealing with the Philosopher's Stone and Quirrell.” 

“Quirrell?” Astoria asked, glancing up from where she was signing. “What’s a Philosopher’s Stone?” 

Pansy hummed. “Well, Quirrell was our teacher first year, and the Philosopher’s stone is some magic alchemy rock made by Nikolai Phlegm-something.” 

“Nicolas Flamel,” Harry corrected. “He and Dumbledore apparently worked together, so Flamel let Dumbledore ‘borrow’ it. He hid it in the third floor corridor. You know, the one Dumbledore said was forbidden our first night here?” 

“So Quirrell was the one after the stone.” She frowned, looking completive. “Whatever happened to him anyway? He just vanished when you came out of that tunnel thing. Did he escape?” 

Harry snorted. “I guess, if you call death an escape.” 

Both girls looked at him sharply, surprised, and Harry realized how that made it sound. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose. Lily Potter’s sacrifice put this sort of… ward on me. Meant that Voldemort-” Everyone within earshot jumped. “-couldn’t touch me. And since Voldemort-” More jerks. “-was kinda hiding on the back of Quirrell’s head, it burned Quirrell to touch me. So I used that to kind of kill him when he tried to choke me out. And then Voldemort-” 

“ _ Alistair _ !” A shrill voice snapped from behind him, making him jump in surprise. Turning, Harry was met with the sight of Umbridge, turning a purplish-pink as she glowered at him. 

“We’re inside,” he said, quickly growing irritated. “No need to yell.” 

“I think now is a more than adequate time for a raised voice,” she hissed, stomping over to him. “You’re to stop spreading these lies  _ immediately _ , or face the consequences!” 

“Lies?” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I was just telling them about what happened in-” 

“Don’t try to deny it.” With a shrap  _ tsk _ , she shook her head. “You-Know-Who hasn’t returned. You’d do well to remember that.” 

Harry groaned. “I was talking about first year!” 

“Detention, Alistair,” she sneered, starting to sound almost gleeful. “I will not tolerate your tone, or your lies. My office, tonight at exactly eight.” 

With that, the toad turned on her heel to march triumphantly out of the Great Hall. Harry watched her go, practically growling as his fingers twitched to send a curse or ten into her back. He did his best to stomp down the desire, and turned to Astoria and Pansy. 

“Can she do that?” He asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer. “Give me detention?” 

“New Educational Decree,” Astoria supplied. “It got put up this morning. Sorry, Harrison.” 

Another groan escaped him. Of course he’d miss a sign that gave Umbridge the power to torment him more. He supposed he’d have to go along with it, though. Best to do what he said he would, and keep his head down. He’d go, clean chalkboards or the floor like Umbridge wanted, and be more careful in the future. 

When Astoria had finished, and he’d gotten Greg and Vince to fill out their sections, Harry left the Great Hall to head back to his room. He wasn’t all that hungry, and he’d really rather just take a nap. He’d probably be out late, so Umbrige could attempt to sic an extra detention on him for being out after curfew. 

XxXXxX

Harry made sure to be up at Umbridge’s office five minutes early. He’d skipped dinner, instead going to the kitchens for a snack, since he’d grab something on the way back to the dorms. He wasn’t surprised that Umbridge wasn’t even in her office before eight, since he had heard staff and students alike still eating when he’d walked past the Great Hall. 

“Alistair,” Umbridge said, keeping her voice carefully neutral, though it was clear she was disappointed. “You’re early.” 

As they entered, Harry glanced at her clock, and somehow refrained from mentioning that she was actually late. “My mother is a firm believer in punctuality.” 

Umbridge scowled at him, but took a seat at her desk. She gestured in front of her, to one of the chairs facing her desk, so he took a seat across from her. He glanced around, making a show of pretending he’d never been inside before, though his disgust was real. It was harder to keep his delight hidden when he noticed she hadn’t replaced the quill vase he’d broken.

“Depending on how you do tonight, this might be your only detention,” she said as she opened her desk, reaching into the drawer with the black quill. “For spreading those evil, nasty, attention-seeking lies, you’ll be writing lines.” 

Harry barely caught himself before he rolled his eyes. Evil and nasty is what Fudge had been trying to paint him out to be, but attention seeking? Aside from friends, he barely spoke to anyone about Voldemort, and he already got enough media attention without it. It came with the territory, when you had famous relatives. He was almost tempted to point out that he’d been in the paper several times before Voldemort’s return, and he really hadn’t cared. But talking back was what she probably wanted, so he kept his mouth tightly shut, and gave her a sharp nod. 

She smiled at him, as if she could read his thoughts, and pulled out a roll of parchment and the black quill. Sliding them across the desk to him, Umbridge tilted her head a little, lips curling even more as she spoke. “I want you to write ‘I must not tell lies’.” 

“How many times?” 

“Oh,” she mused, sweet like rotten fruit. “As many as it takes for the words to sink in.” 

Not liking the sound of that, Harry turned to study the quill again. It looked fairly normal, but it seemed sharper than it should be. More like a knife then a quill tip. He swallowed, having a feeling he knew what happened when it was used. 

Placing the point to paper, Harry started slow, waiting for the feeling of magic moving under his skin as the quill supplied its own red ink. Instead, he felt pain cutting into the back of his hand, a soft hiss escaping him as he turned to look. There, as red as the ink on the page, were the words ‘I must not tell lies’, in his own familiar script. As he stared down at the words, they healed over, leaving only a barely there redness, and the skin as smooth as it had been before he’d started writing. 

Undoubtedly, that would not be true when he finished. 

“Something wrong, Alistair?” Umbridge asked, making him look up. 

Harry observed her for a moment, wondering if this was something he needed to share. Surely this was illegal. Hogwarts didn’t do corporal punishment. She was breaking school policy by doing this. Then again, she was here on Fudge’s orders and named High Inquisitor. If she so desired, she could change that, couldn’t she? 

“Nothing,” Harry said instead, turning back to the parchment, to begin writing in earnest. 

The back of his hand was burning with pain, but he didn’t dare pause between lines. If it healed only when he finished, perhaps he could prevent scarring by writing quickly, so it would heal everything at the end? Or, perhaps it would just cut deeper and deeper, until his hand began to bleed. That would be satisfying in its own right, bleeding all over Umbridge’s office, and ruining her furniture. 

After what felt like hours, Umbridge finally had him stop. She had him hold out his hand, letting her touch the back of it with stubby fingers as the lines, now jagged from his hand beginning to shake, slowly knit themselves together. The skin was still red, though, and Harry could see drops of crimson red scattered around cross sections of letters. 

“It seems it's made quite the impression,” Umbridge said, smiling at him, as he realized it would certainly scar. “I don’t think you’ll need to write anymore, but you’ll need to be on your best behaviour, won’t you? You’re dismissed.” 

Harry let his hand fall, trying to ignore the way the beads of red began to slide down and stick between his fingers. “May I have a note?” 

She paused, turning to look at him again. “Excuse me?” 

“It’s past curfew,” Harry said, keeping his eyes locked on her, refusing to be cowed, but doing his best to not set her off again. 

She tutted at him, but checked the time and wrote him a quick note. He gave it a glance, noticing that the time was off by a good five minutes, but he doubted he’d be out long enough to get in trouble for it. The dungeons weren’t far enough that it would matter. 

Stuffing the note into his pocket, taking care to not let his aching hand rub against anything, Harry left the toad’s office, walking in quick strides back to the Slytherin common room. He didn’t see any students, or any teachers, and even Filch seemed to have abandoned the halls. 

He didn’t bother going to the kitchens, finding he’d lost his appetite. 

When he finally got back to his dorm, he noticed all the curtains drawn around their beds, save for his own and one other. Draco looked up, eyes cast silver in the candle light from his bedside table. 

“Harrison,” Draco mused, closing what looked to be their potions book. “Back late, aren’t you? I hope you weren’t getting into trouble.” 

“Already did,” Harry sighed, moving to his bed, not bothering with his robes. “Just got out of detention.” 

“Detention? This late? What were you doing, cleaning the trophy room?” 

He unconsciously clenched his fist, his other hand coming up to clasp it. It had started shaking again. “No. Just… Lines.” 

“Lines? For four hours?” Draco sighed, shaking his head. “Really, Harrison, what did you do to get  _ four hours _ of lines? And with who? And- Wait. Why are you holding your hand like that?” 

In a second, Draco was on him. He grabbed Harry’s hands by the wrists, pulling them apart to look at the back of his hand. The blood was smeared and flaking now that it had had time to dry during his walk, making it look worse than it was. Harry even said as much. 

“It’s not that bad.” 

Draco, however, was not convinced. “You’ve got  _ blood _ coming out of your hand. I’m very certain, Alistair, that is a bad thing.” 

Before Harry could stop him, Draco was grabbing a handkerchief from his table, coming back to quickly wipe it clean. He scowled down at the redness, at the jagged lines that were already turning a pale white against his skin. It didn’t look like it was going to scar, but he’d likely have some sort of discoloration there. 

“So what were you really doing?” Draco demanded. “Because you can’t really expect me to believe that ‘lines’ is the truth.” 

Harry sighed, pulling his hand away. “It is. Umbridge made me write lines with a stupid cursed quill.” 

“A cursed quill?!” 

At Draco’s shrill cry, Harry lurched forward, covering the blonds mouth with his hand as he shushed him. He glanced over at the curtains of Greg’s bed, as a shadow moved behind it, and the larger boy seemed to roll over. The last thing he wanted was to wake up the others, and have to explain everything all over again. 

Letting out a sigh, Harry turned back to Draco, finding his friend’s face red beneath his palm, and wide grey eyes staring at him. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, pulling his hand away. “Just… keep your voice down. The last thing I need is more eyes on me. And that’s the only thing I’ll get if this gets out.” 

“Harrison,” Draco started, only to stop, taking a deep breath. “Hogwarts has a zero tolerance policy on corporal punishment. Because it is  _ against the law _ . You need to tell your parents, so they can report her.” 

As he thought about it, he realized it would be a quick way to get rid of Umbridge. If it came out that she was abusing students, most parents would insist on her removal. She’d be gone for good, and Harry wouldn’t have to see her again. 

_ But it won’t work _ , a little voice that he couldn’t silence hissed in the back of his mind. If the Ministry had been looking for someone to spy on children, they’d picked a pretty bad person to do it; but he knew just how much worse it could get. If they’d sent Umbridge, there wasn’t a guarantee that they wouldn’t send someone worse, someone more like Vernon. 

Though, at this point, it was hard to believe that the Ministry wouldn’t just call him an attention seeker. They seemed to be on a campaign to discredit him and Dumbledore. It wasn’t impossible that the Ministry would spin it so Harry was simply lying, trying to drum up sympathy, so he could trick people into believing his claims about Voldemort. And the mind of the average wizard meant they’d just listen to the Ministry blindly.

“It won’t help,” Harry ground out, scowling at his hand. “The Ministry is trying to tear me down, and that’s what Umbridge is trying to do. If I’m the only one complaining, without any proof, then they’ll just say I’m lying again. So I’m going to do what I was supposed to in the first place: keep my head down.” Looking up, Harry met Draco’s concerned gaze, and shoved his growing anger back down. “But... If it happens again, to me or someone else, I’ll owl my parents.” 

Draco pursed his lips, but agreed, going back to his bed to draw the curtain closed. Harry in turn shed his robes to lay down to sleep. 

XxXXxX

The corridor was long and dark. It had many dark corners to hide in, which were happily taken advantage of, though it was unnecessary. The corridor was empty. 

Footsteps echoed off the wall, drawing closer and closer to the looming door at the end. The dark wood seemed to glow, calling to be opened. A pounding heart echoed a steady beat against the walls, growing louder and louder. 

If only the door would open. 

If only it was in reach. 

XxXXX

Harry did his best to keep his head down for the next week. 

He stayed quiet, just doing what he was supposed to, and staying as far from Umbridge as he could. The last thing he wanted was another detention and to have to follow through on his promise to Draco. So he spent most of his time in the Chamber, working to finish their ‘renovations’. 

Harry and Ron did most of the grunt work, taking strings of glass balls to hang as Hermione cast spells on each ball so it lit up like muggle christmas lights. As they went, Hermione carried a board that she used to draw out the tunnels, as well as make signs when they found an exit. They found a few new ones, including one that opened up just behind a rather disgruntled portrait that hung in the same corridor as the kitchens and Hufflepuff common room. 

As they took a break a week before their first Hogsmeade trip, Harry decided they should probably figure out where to recruit, and who. 

“We’ll have to be careful,” Harry said, as he watched Hermione scribble some notes down for her Chamber map. “This group will be against one of Umbridge’s rules, and we really don’t want detention with her.” 

“We’ll definitely want to invite your relatives,” Hermione said, glancing up to look between them. “Fred and George will be helpful, as they’ve already taken their OWL’s, and should know all the spells we’ll need by now.” 

“And then anyone we already trust,” Ron added. “So Neville, Cedric, Cho. People like that.” 

Harry nodded, thinking for a moment. They could make their own lists, make sure that they got invitations by the next Friday. 

“There is one more thing,” Hermione started. “Because of the requirements for opening the doors, and Harry being the only one who can, getting in without his help is impossible. Which is good. We don’t want untrustworthy people stumbling in. But if Harry is running around, opening and closing doors, then he can’t teach the others. I have a few ideas, but I’ll need more time to experiment with them. See if any of it will actually work.” 

He nodded again. “That’s fine. There should only be a few more tunnels left. Just tell us what you need.” 

She pursed her lips, tapping her quill on her page for a moment. “Well… I’d like to try something with the map. If you don’t mind me borrowing it.” 

Shaking his head, Harry reached into his bag to pull out the map, handing it over to Hermione. He was sure that she would take care of it. Still, it was a little difficult to release the map from his possession. 

“Are you sure you two can finish the Chamber without me?” Hermione asked, as she tucked the map away. 

Harry and Ron glanced at each other. Ron wasn’t that great with spellwork, and while Harry could cast for them, stringing the balls took two people anyway. Their progress would be slowed considerably, since they’d need to go back to light the balls with spells. 

They’d need help. 

“We could ask the Slytherins,” he suggested. “Blaise, Draco, and Theo will definitely be part of the group, and they already know about the Chamber.” Pausing, he added, “We could also ask Marrissa, so we can make two teams to go through the last few.” 

This time, Ron and Hermione shared a look. It was almost like they were having a silent conversation, talking about Harry like he wasn’t there. But he was. He was sitting right here, in front of them, and he felt his stomach roll with anger. 

They had no right to do that. Not about him. He deserved to know, and he’d get it out of them. 

“What?” he demanded, voice sharper then he had intended. 

They both jumped, looking a bit surprised. 

“Nothing,” Ron said. “Just... Are you sure they should join us?” 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing bad,” Hermione quickly corrected, shooting Ron a stern look. “It’s just that Theo and Draco are in rather… delicate situations. If we get caught, and they’re with us, they’ll be in danger with their parents. You said that their parents were at the graveyard, and who knows how they’d react if they found out they were helping you.” 

“Draco and Theo know what they’re doing. If they want to join us, and they will, then they deserve that chance. Besides, isn’t part of this about house unity? We can’t be a united Hogwarts without the Slytherins.” 

They seemed to agree, and let the issue slide. Harry decided that, after dinner that night, they’d use the cloak and go to the Chamber. The cloak wouldn’t fit four now, so he’d leave ahead of them, tell Draco to take Theo and Blaise through the boat house entrance, and that he’d meet them there. For now, he’d head out and tell them the plan. 

Saying goodbye to Ron and Hermione, he headed for the common room. It wouldn’t be long until dinner, and he needed to make a list of people he could trust for Ron and Hermione to look over. They’d probably end up slipping the ones they agreed on a note during class, and he supposed he’d have to get Marrissa on the way. 

When he got to the common room, Harry looked around for his dormmates, eventually finding them tucked into couches in the corner of the room. They seemed to be discussing something, Blaise leaning in as he whispered to Theo. Frowning, he made his way over, catching the tail end of the conversation. 

“-tell us,” Blaise was saying. “If you need more help, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

“Thank you,” Theo breathed, glancing up and barely meeting Harry’s eyes before looking away. “Oh, hello Harrison...” 

Frowning slightly, Harry took a seat next to Draco, glancing around at his friends. “Everything alright?” 

“We were just discussing Theo’s father,” Draco said. “Nothing to worry about.” 

Something didn’t seem right about the blond’s quick and dismissive tone. There had to be something more to this that Harry wasn’t seeing. Something they were hiding from him. 

Fury began to bubble in the pit of his stomach. He hated it when his friends kept things from him. After his years with the Dursleys, living in lies and squalor, he’d grown to hate any lie he was told. Especially when it was something he needed to know. And anything they said about Theo’s father, a known Death Eater, had to be important. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Blaise asked, startling Harry out of his own angry thoughts. “You seem kinda tense. Something happen with Umbridge again?” 

Instantly, Harry turned to glare at Draco. The blond had told them? He’d agreed to keep the quill secret, to not say anything until Harry knew they something could be done without trouble. Is that what they’d really been talking about?

Draco, however, only gave Harry a bland look. “They didn’t see you come back the night you had detention, and you’ve been staying out late most nights. I just told them what I knew of your whereabouts.” 

“Oh.” Harry took a deep breath, trying to shove that anger back down. No reason to be angry. Draco wouldn’t betray his trust like that… “Yeah, I’ve been keeping my head down. Hanging out where the Toad can’t find me.” 

Blaise was instantly intrigued. Netting his fingers together, he leaned in, keeping his voice low. “You mean the Chamber of Secrets.” 

With a nod, Harry leaned back in his seat, watching as Theo leaned in with Blaise, clearly interested in the change of subject. Draco hummed, nodding as if that was just as he had expected. 

“I’ve been working on mapping the area with Ron and Hermione,” Harry explained. “We’ve got something in the works that we’ll need it for, but Hermione needs to focus on something else. Ron and I can’t really finish the mapping on time by ourselves, so…” 

“So you need some help,” Draco finished, frowning slightly. “Are you sure that you want us down there? Your pet has been rather fond of me, but we can’t always expect the same with others.”

“Sila will be fine,” he said. “She knows you’re coming. We should probably go tonight, though, so we can get to work first thing in the morning. Don’t want to make Ron wait because you two are still freaking out over a snake.” 

Blaise and Theo shared a look, but didn’t seem to want to deny it. 

“Then it’s settled,” Draco said. “We’ll meet you at the boathouse entrance tonight. We’ll use your cloak.”


End file.
